


You Never Know Who's the One

by NZLisaM



Series: My Broadchurch Universe [1]
Category: Broadchurch
Genre: Angst, Crime, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Series 2, Suspense, friendship to romance, slow-build relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-22
Updated: 2015-05-22
Packaged: 2018-03-25 05:59:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 36,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3799480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NZLisaM/pseuds/NZLisaM
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>My take on what happens next... Picks up where S02E08 left off. SPOILERS for both seasons.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:**

Broadchurch and its characters belong to Chris Chibnall and ITV/Kudos. No infringement is intended, no profit is made. 

This fanfic is dedicated to all the Alec/Ellie shippers out there, who like me, think the two characters belong together. :-)

 

* * *

 

ELLIE

_This is the spot. This is where she first met Hardy._

A pleasant shiver runs down Ellie Miller’s spine and she doesn’t think it’s due to the cold breeze blowing off the sea. She’s dismayed to realise that this spot signifies more to her than the place her husband chose to dump the body of their eleven year-old neighbour, after brutally murdering him.

 

She doesn’t understand it! It’s not as if her first encounter with Hardy was a pleasant one. Even if they hadn’t of met under the grimmest circumstances possible, the fact remains that the big city knob had just swooped in and stolen her job. Maybe it’s because she’s gotten over losing the promotion a long time ago. Too much shit has happened to her since, for it to even register. Deep down she knows she wasn’t qualified for the DI job, knows that it was Hardy’s skills and experience that forced Joe into a corner.

 

She cannot fathom how things might’ve turned out if Hardy hadn’t shown up in Broadchurch. Would she have caught Joe on her own? Or would she still be married to him, sleeping next to him, unaware of his true nature? The thought of him still having access to Tom and Fred sickens her.  

_Don’t... Don’t think about it!_ Squeezing her eyes shut, she breathes in the fresh, salty air, listening to the sound of the waves lapping against the shore, until the nausea recedes. Opening them, her gaze wanders to Mark and Tom, sprawled in the sand, deep in conversation. Her heart melts as Tom throws back his head and laughs at something Mark says; the sound of his laughter music to Ellie’s ears.

 

Next to them, Fred is speeding a blue matchbox car – a lucky find from her jacket pocket – along the sand. Beth and Chloe look on, smiling at Fred’s antics, Danny’s flowers between them, Lizzie cuddled securely on Chloe’s lap. The baby fixates on Fred as he utters a loud motor sound and crashes the car into Tom’s leg.

 

Hearing her phone chime, she rifles through the contents of her handbag in a frantic bid to locate it. Her initial thought is that it’s Hardy, and she’s annoyed at herself for hoping he’ll call. He’s made his decision – he’s chosen to leave, that’s the end of it! But she feels let down by him; abandoned at her most vulnerable, left to deal with the aftermath of Joe alone. He’s lucky she initiated a handshake; she should’ve kicked him in the bloody balls. Yet she still feels a pang of disappointment when she sees that it’s just a text from Lucy.

 

‘Ell. I need to talk to you. It’s important. Bring the boys.’

 

Her face falls as she processes the words. Urgent summonses from Lucy are never a good sign. She just doesn’t have the energy to deal with her sister’s numerous issues – not today! But being the dutiful sister that she is she replies saying that she’ll stop by after dinner.

 

Beth crosses the sand to join her, “Everything okay, Ell? You’ve been standing over here by yourself for ages.”

 

Ellie holds up her mobile. A frown crosses her friend’s face as she reads the text. “You think she’s after more money, don’t you?”

 

“I wish I had more faith in her,” Ellie sighs, shoving the phone back in her bag.

 

“She’s never given you much reason to.”

 

“She’s been better lately... since everything with Joe. Or maybe I’ve just been too caught up in my own problems to notice? Maybe I should just give her money as payment for all the times I’ve asked her to babysit?”

 

“You’ve already paid her, Ell. Have you forgotten all the money you’ve given her over the years?”

 

“I know, I know.” She covers her face with her hands. “I can’t help it! She’s my sister, even if she is more trouble than she’s worth a lot of the time.”  She reaches for Beth’s hand, “We shouldn’t be talking about Lucy. She can wait! How are you holding up, sweetheart, being back at this spot?”

 

Beth takes a deep breath, “I can feel Danny’s presence so strongly here. Not a day goes by I don’t wish he was here with me, but I take comfort from the fact that at least he’s with my mum and dad.” She gazes off into the distance, “I know Mum will be taking care of him, fussing over him.”

 

“I’m so sorry, Beth... so sorry about Liz. She was such a lovely woman. When I heard the news I felt like my own mother had died all over again. You don’t know how badly I wanted to make contact with you at the time.”

 

Beth’s eyes mist over, “I got the flowers you sent, and I’m embarrassed to say I chucked them in the bin. I’ve been so awful to you, Ellie, and you didn’t deserve any of it.”

 

“It’s, okay, Beth.”

 

“No, it isn’t. That day Mark stood up there on the stand and told the court he was gonna leave me; it was like... like a light bulb went off in my head. I couldn’t believe I was so clueless about what was going on right under my nose. I always thought Mark and I were happy. We had our problems of course, but who doesn’t? Afterwards, when you followed me, and comforted me, even after everything I’d done to you, I felt like such a hypocrite. How could I blame you for not knowing what was going on in your own marriage when I had no idea what was going on in my own?”

 

Still holding Beth’s hand, Ellie gives it a squeeze, “Mark’s not Joe. He’s not. He’s made mistakes, yes, but he’s sorry and he loves you. I know he does.”

 

“I will never understand how none of us saw Joe for who he really was. How could he come across as such a normal person for so long?”

 

Ellie feels her lower lip start to tremble. She clenches her hands into tight fists. _She won’t cry. She won’t!_ “He was an expert at hiding his true self,” she says. “Even Hardy liked Joe – the night he came to dinner at my house – and Hardy doesn’t get on with most people.”

 

Beth looks over at her husband, who’s in the process of shoving a handful of crisps into his mouth. “Mark and I want to put on a barbecue this Saturday to thank everyone who stuck by us throughout the trial and helped out today with the Joe situation.”

 

Ellie smiles, “I think that’s a brilliant idea.” Inwardly she’s a little nervous at the thought of attending her first group social outing since Joe’s arrest.

 

“So, we were thinking, you, Tom, and Fred, Nige, Jocelyn, Ben, Maggie, Olly, Lucy, Paul... Oh god, I don’t have to invite Becca Fisher do I?”

 

“I wouldn’t think so. Surely she wouldn’t expect to be included?”

 

Beth considers, “She did help us out today.”

 

“Yes, she did.”

 

“Oh, and DI Hardy,” Beth says. “Do you think he’d mind if I call him Alec? I can’t keep calling him DI Hardy forever!”

 

Ellie shakes her head, “He hates his name... and mine.” She digs the toe of her trainer into the sand. “It doesn’t matter anyway. He can’t make it... cos he left.”

 

“He left? When?”

 

Checking her watch, Ellie tries to keep her face neutral. “His taxi should be leaving about now.”

 

“He didn’t waste any time?”

 

She feels a lump forming in her throat. “I know.”

 

“Are you okay? I know the two of you were...” Beth hesitates, “friends.”

 

Ellie’s saved from answering when Fred runs by Chloe, upending an open packet of crisps. Sour cream-and-chives snacks sail through the air to land haphazardly on the sand.

 

“Oh Fred!” says Ellie.

 

Both adults scramble to clean up the mess, while Chloe brushes crisp crumbs from herself and Lizzie. No help at all, Mark and Tom barely glance up from their conversation.

 

Fred thinks it’s a hell of a funny game, and long after the crisps have been cleared away, he is still determinedly brushing aside sand searching for stray pieces, his dedication to his task rivalling that of a miner panning for gold.

 

Watching him with a mixture of amusement and exasperation, Ellie painstakingly holds out a plastic bag for what feels like the one hundredth time, to accept his latest offering, a crisp sliver mixed with grains of sands. “I see SOCO in your future,” she sighs. Even though she knows the baby won’t comprehend her meaning, she leans closer and whispers, “Oh, and thanks for the well-timed distraction. I’m really not up to answering questions about Uncle Alec today.”

 

Fred grins at her as if to say that he planned it that way all along.

 

* * *

 

Lucy opens her front door, “Thanks for coming, Ell. Hiya Tom, Fred.”

 

“Fred, Fred, shoes. Come here, darling.” Ellie grabs hold of him before he can traipse half the beach through Lucy’s house. He gives a squeal of delight as she captures his right foot and wrestles with his shoe. She’s brushing sand from his socks when Fred decides he’s been patient long enough. Breaking free, he utters an excited giggle, and races past Lucy’s legs. From inside, Ellie hears Olly greeting him in that high-pitched, over enthusiastic way adults often adopt when speaking to young children.

 

“We’ve been at the beach with the Latimers,” Ellie says, as she toes off her trainers. “Then we all stopped off for fish ‘n’ chips. It was lovely.”

 

Lucy hasn’t stopped smiling since she opened the door. Her odd behaviour fills Ellie with dread. She’s definitely jumpy about something!

 

Tom, engrossed in his smartphone, grunts a hello at his aunt, and shuffles inside.

 

Ellie trails after Lucy to join Olly and Fred in the kitchen. Tom’s already disappeared, presumably upstairs to play his game in peace.

 

Olly crouches down to his young cousin’s level. “Freddy, do you want to watch, Kipper?” Fred jumps up and down. Like Tom when he was his age, he adores the animated orange and white dog, who loves biscuits. Ellie recalls Joe having to replace a couple of the DVD’s because they were so badly scratched they were unplayable.

 

“C’mon then, mate,” Olly grins. He guides Fred towards the sitting room, closing the door as he goes, but not before giving his mum a look of what Ellie can only describe as pride. _What the hell is going on?_

 

“Cuppa tea, Ell?”

 

Ellie shakes her head. She doesn’t bother removing her coat. She just wants to find out what Lucy wants, and leave as quickly as possible. “So, what’s so urgent? I’ve had a hell of day, Luce. I can’t take much more.”

 

“Okay... then I’ll get straight to the point then, shall I?” She doesn’t sound happy, but Ellie’s beyond caring. Lucy takes her time, staring down at her perfectly manicured nails for what seems like forever. “I’ve booked a place in a rehab centre,” she finally blurts. “Olly’s driving me to London first thing tomorrow.”

 

It takes a while for the words to sink in, and for a beat all Ellie can do is stare. Then she’s clutching her sister and throwing her arms around her. “Are you serious? I’m so proud of you.” Ellie can’t quite believe that something is finally going right in her shitty life!

 

They embrace for a long time, and when they finally step back from one another there are tears in both their eyes.

 

Lucy grabs a tissue, and then hands the box to Ellie. “I know it’s partly my fault that Joe got off.” Her breath catches. “I’m ashamed that my actions led to you being compromised both professionally and morally. The way that bitch, barrister spoke to you on the stand... I don’t think I’ve ever felt guiltier. It should’ve been me up there getting torn apart... not you. I’m finally ready to admit I have a problem. I’ve been gambling for years, but it wasn’t until John ran off with that twenty five year-old slag from the King’s Arms, that things got really bad.”

 

“We don’t have much luck with husbands, do we Luce? Well not one’s starting with ‘J’ anyway.”

 

“That’s your solution!” laughs Lucy. “To stay away from men whose name’s start with that letter of the alphabet?”

 

“Dunno... maybe. Or just stay away from men altogether.”

 

“Wow, Ell, I’ve never taken you for a cynical person before.”

 

“That was the old, naive me, who always saw the best in people.”

 

Reaching over, Lucy tucks a stray strand of hair behind Ellie’s ear, and smoothes it down. “I like the old you.” She screws up her face, her gaze raking over Ellie’s bright orange anorak, “Even though you do have appalling fashion sense and are so bloody perfect most of the time you make the rest of us look like shit by comparison.”

 

“Luce,” Ellie hesitates. “Do you have enough money to pay for the treatment?”

 

Lucy’s face flushes. She nods, “I had a bit of a windfall on my last trip to Bournemouth.”

 

“Oh, right, good. So you’re paying for treatment for your addiction with money you made cos of that addiction.”

 

“Yeah, I’ll have to admit that in my counselling sessions. Being open and honest about everything is the only way the programme will work.”

 

“That makes sense. How long will you be gone?”

 

“Not sure at this stage. Six to eight weeks, maybe. It’s not just gambling I have a problem with, it’s alcohol as well... and then there’s the shagging.”

 

Ellie’s eyes widen, “You’re addicted to sex as well?” She looks behind her to make sure the door to the hall is definitely shut. Last thing she wants is for Tom to walk downstairs and overhear their conversation.

 

“Sort of. The three kind of go hand in hand. You know what it’s like when you consume large amounts of alcohol on a regular basis, you’re bound to pick up a lot of random blokes along the way?” Lucy slaps a hand against her forehead, “Look who I’m talking to – of course you don’t know what it’s like.”

 

Ellie’s tempted to mention the drunken one night stand she had last month – the worse sex of her life with an almost-stranger – but she can’t bear to say the words out loud. She looks down at the floor, “No, you’re right, I have no idea.”

 

“Speaking of promiscuity, do me a favour, Ell, keep an eye on Olly. Make sure he doesn’t turn my house into a bachelor pad while I’m gone.”

 

Ellie snorts, “I’ll watch him like a hawk.”

 

“Hope I’m not leaving you in the lurch. I know you rely on me to look after Tom and Fred.”

 

“No, it’s fine. The trials over and the Sandbrook case is done and dusted.”

 

Lucy winks, “What will you and Hardy do together now that you don’t have a case to crack?”

 

_What is it with everyone bringing up Alec Hardy all of a sudden?_ For the second time that day she explains that Hardy has left.

 

Her sisters teasing turns to sympathy, “I’m sorry, Ell. I thought he might stay here? Maybe you’re right about men after all. Maybe they do always let you down.”

 

Ellie feels the need to defend Hardy, which confuses her because she’s still furious at him. “He has a teenage daughter. They’ve been apart for long enough.”

 

“Oh, didn’t know that.”

 

There’s a knock on the door, and Olly pokes his head in, “Everything, all right, Mum?”

 

“Yes, it’s okay to come in. We were just talking about Hardy. He left town today.”

 

Olly’s mouth flies open, “For good?” He looks thrown by the news, which surprises Ellie as she didn’t think he even liked Hardy. “He promised me an interview about Sandbrook.”

 

“What?” Ellie shakes his head, “He wouldn’t have agreed to that. You’re so full of shit, Oliver!”

 

Olly’s insistent, “He _did_. I rang him earlier.” The penny drops, as he realises he’s been duped. “Oh, I get it. He knew he was leaving, and was just trying to fob me off.” A sly smile crosses his face. “I’ll show him. I’m gonna be his phone stalker until he talks to me.”

 

Ellie juts a finger at her nephew, “Oi, leave Hardy alone, Olly. I mean it!”

 

* * *

 

Just after nine, Ellie leaves Lucy’s house and heads to her car. It’s fully dark, and the temperature has dropped significantly. She shoves her hands into the pocket of her coat to warm them up Lucy’s decided she wants to keep Tom and Fred overnight since she won’t see them for a while. Ellie feels like she’s always saying goodbye to them but is reassured by the fact that she’ll have them all to herself for the next six to eight weeks.

 

She’s just climbed into the driver’s seat when she hears her name being called.

 

“Auntie Ellie,” Olly’s running up the garden path. She reluctantly powers down her window to speak to him.

 

“Olly, it’s late, I’m dead tired, and not in the mood for you to grill me about Sandbrook!” she grumbles.

 

The Broadchurch Echo journalist shuffles his feet. “No, it’s not about that. I wanted to know whether you think Mum’s serious about getting help this time.”

 

Ellie’s tone softens, “I think so. Lucy has more incentive than ever to change. And she sounds more determined this time.”

 

Olly nods, “I’ll miss her.”

 

“Me too,” she muses. “But she’ll be back before we know it. Now push off, will you.”

 

Olly steps back as she starts the car, “See you.”

 

On the drive home, she’s beyond exhausted, running on empty. She’s not sure she should even be operating a motor vehicle, and is grateful Lucy only lives a couple of streets away. The stress of the past few days has caught up to her majorly, and she can’t wait to climb into her bed. She’s been up for over thirty six hours, courtesy of Claire, Lee, and Ricky. But the all night interrogations paid off – like she told Hardy, they got them in the end! She wonders whether she has any sleeping pills left in her bedside cabinet. She really needs a decent night’s sleep. Thoughts of prescription medication remind her of the last time she took them, the night of Danny’s murder. She wonders if every past memory she has will forever be tainted by Joe! She hopes not!

 

Pulling into her driveway she’s grateful to be home. Grabbing her handbag from the passenger seat she exits the car.    

 

She’s about to walk around the corner of her house when she hears movement on her front porch. She freezes in her tracks her heart racing. Is it Joe? Has he, in spite of their dire warnings, turned the taxi around and returned to town?

 

The hedge separating the house from the road obscures her view, so, staying in the shadows, she peers around the corner prepared to run for the hills if necessary. She’s going to feel stupid if it’s just the neighbour’s cat! Thankfully, the security light is on so she’s able to see the person clearly.  Her relief is instantaneous when she realises who it is but her heart rate doesn’t slow one bit.

 

Suddenly she’s more wide awake than ever...

 

Alec Hardy is on her doorstep!

 


	2. Chapter 2

ELLIE

 

“Where’ve you been? I’ve been waiting ages,” Hardy demands, before Ellie’s even reached the porch.

 

Folding her arms across her chest, Ellie glares at him. “What are you doing lurking on my porch in the dark? You scared me half to death! It’s freezing cold, and you’ve just had heart surgery for fuck’s sake. What are you thinking? You could’ve texted me.”

 

“Don’t start, Miller.”

 

Ignoring him, she barrels on ahead, “I thought you left? What happened to your taxi?” She looks beyond him. “Where are your bags?”

 

“You do know you do this incessant list question thing? Bam-bam-bam-bam,” he says, cutting his hands through the air to demonstrate. “It’s really annoying.”

 

Trust Hardy to throw her own words from almost a year ago back in her face. “Oh, shut up,” she fumes. “No one likes a smart arse. Although... I’m thrilled to pieces that you actually listen when I speak. _Idiot!”_ she mutters under her breath.

 

Hardy’s response is a grunt. Turning her back on him, she fumbles with the key, finally getting it in the lock. “Get inside,” she orders her uninvited guest, practically shoving him through the door. “Christ!”

 

He cranes his neck to look behind her, peering out into the night. “Where are Tom and Fred?” It’s as if it’s just registered that they’re not with her.

 

“They’re spending the night at Lucy’s.” Closing the front door, she sweeps by him, hanging up her trusty orange coat on the row of hooks near the stairs, “Lucy’s decided to go into rehab. She leaves in the morning.”

 

“Oh, that’s nice.”

 

“Yeah, long overdue,” she throws over her shoulder, heading for the kitchen. “I’ll make tea.” It’s not lost on her that as per usual Hardy has neglected to answer any of her questions. He’s the king of avoidance. She fills the kettle, bangs it onto its base, and angrily flicks the power switch.

 

She’s aware of Hardy standing in the doorway, watching as she crashes around the kitchen. Stepping into the room, he turns his back against the cupboards, placing his hands either side of the counter.

 

Eventually he says: “I get the feeling you’re angry with me.”

 

Ellie grits her teeth, sorely tempted to throw his cup of tea at him. “You think so? What was your first clue?” Shoving a packet of chocolate caramel digestives under one arm, she carries the drinks to the sitting room. As she sets them down on the coffee table her hands are shaking so badly she’s amazed she doesn’t spill anything.

 

Flinging herself down on the sofa, she punches the cushion for effect, waiting until Hardy has lowered his long, lean frame into an armchair, before ripping into him. “I’m sick to death of you not answering my questions. This afternoon I arrived at your house to find you packing your bags without even telling me you were leaving, I might add.” She shakes a finger in his direction. Hardy squirms in his seat and so he bloody well should. “We said goodbye, we shook hands. You told me you wanted to live near your daughter. Now... a mere few hours later here you are on my bloody doorstep. I think I’m entitled to some sort of explanation, don’t you?”

 

Hardy reaches for his tea, “Fine. I’m staying at the Traders.” He takes a sip, “Just for tonight.”

 

Ellie waits for the knob to continue, but apparently that’s the end of the conversation. _Does that mean he intends to leave tomorrow?_ , she wonders. Dread mixed with anger and disappointment roils through her stomach. Frustrated, she grabs a biscuit from the packet and shoves half of it in her mouth.

 

“And... then what?” she ventures, once she’s finished chewing.

 

“Erm, I rang the rental agency and incredibly my house has already been rented to someone else, but the cottage was still available, so I thought I’d move in there.”

 

Ellie chokes on her next bite of biscuit, “ _Claire’s_ cottage?”

 

“I was paying for everything, so technically speaking it’s my cottage.”

 

“Won’t that be a bit weird? Living in a place where she lived, knowing what we know about her now?”

 

“Look around you, Miller. Here we are, sitting in the very house you shared with your husband!” As he speaks his voice increases in volume, his Scottish accent more prevalent than ever. “Some people would find that morbid. Do you really think it was a good idea, moving back in here, pretending like nothing’s happened?”

 

“Pretending like nothing’s happened! I can’t believe you just said that – “

 

“Seriously,” Hardy cuts her off. “Do you think you can live here?”

 

Ellie considers her next words carefully. Spotting a loose cushion thread, she pulls at it. “Tom and Fred have lost so much,” she says. “I’m just trying to keep things as familiar for them as possible and this house is a big part of that.”

 

“You didn’t answer my question. What about you?”

 

“Now you know how it feels, cos you never answer any of mine,” Ellie’s shoots back. “Besides, this house belonged to my parent’s before it was mine and Joe’s.”

 

“What? You mean you grew up in this house?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“So you’ve lived in the same house your entire life?” He’s staring at her as if she’s just told him that she believes the moon is made out of cheese.

 

“That’s right,” Ellie sighs. She clears her throat, “Getting back to the cottage. Er... I have to warn you, when I found the burnt ashes of the picture of Claire wearing the pendant I noticed she’d smashed up the kitchen. She even broke the table. So you’ll have some cleaning up to do.”

 

“Aye, it’s worse than that. Lee gave the place a good going over as well in his search for the pendant. And SOCO have been traipsing through there all day. That’s why I couldn’t move in tonight. The property manager was not happy; demanded I get it cleaned up.”

 

“I’m surprised they agreed to continue renting it to you?”

 

Hardy brushes a hand down his face, “Thank God for small mercies. Er... when I checked in, Becca Fisher explained what happened with Joe today. You could’ve told me.”

 

“What?” Ellie splutters. “You didn’t give me a chance. You practically had your foot halfway out the door when I arrived at your house. Speaking of, won’t Daisy be disappointed when you don’t show up?”

 

“No, cos I didn’t tell her I was coming.”

 

She throws up her hands, “Of course you didn’t. Why would I think you would have organised something? She decides it’s time to change the subject, “Beth and Mark have invited you to a barbecue, this Saturday.”

 

Hardy looks horrified, like he always does when someone mentions the words ‘social occasion’ in regards to him. “What? Why would they do that?”

 

“To thank you, for giving evidence during the trial.”

 

“It’s my job. Why would they want to thank me for that?”

 

“For god’s sake, must you endlessly question everything? Cos they’re nice people.”

 

“But I left town?”

 

“No... you didn’t.”

 

Hardy lets out a series of groans in that way that he does.

 

“Look, you’ve chosen to stay here, which means people are going to expect you to participate more – be part of this community. You’re going... so shut up about it! And a bottle of wine will suffice, or maybe some steaks, or sausages. Not all three. Just choose one.”

 

“All right.”

 

She reaches for the phone. Hardy watches her, “What are you doing?”

 

“Calling you a taxi.”

 

“You’re kicking me out?”

 

“Yes. I’m knackered, and Lucy and Olly are dropping the kids back early in the morning.”

 

“Miller,” he protests. “Hang up the phone. I’ll walk.”

 

She pokes her tongue out at him and dials the number. “No you won’t. It’s late and I don’t want you overdoing it.”

 

“Miller!”

 

“Shut up,” she says, just as the line connects at the other end. “Sorry, not you,” Ellie apologies, and proceeds to order a driver.

 

“Ten minutes,” she tells him. He groans again. Picking up their empty tea cups, and the biscuits, she leaves the room.

 

She’s rinsing the dishes when he joins her in the kitchen. She hands him a tea towel, which he grudgingly accepts.

 

Soon enough a horn sounds outside. “There’s your taxi.” She walks him to the door.

 

He’s nearly to the footpath when she calls out to him, “Don’t leave town!”

 

Hardy turns around. She thinks she sees the ghost of a smile cross his face but it’s hard to tell in the dim lighting. “I won’t. Night, Miller.”

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the kudos' - they're much appreciated. I hope this chapter lives up to your expectations!  
> ~Lisa.

ALEC

 

He can’t figure out why he’s still here?

 

All he knows is that he was standing by the taxi the previous day when a feeling of dread so strong overcame him, that he felt compelled to send the taxi away. And he still doesn’t understand it. He was ready to leave, he was? He was looking forward to making some kind of life for himself close to Daisy. He finally knows the truth about Sandbrook, his whole reason for coming to Broadchurch in the first place, and three despicable human beings are behind bars where they belong. Okay, so the Joe Miller trial was a royal fuck up; the bastard’s roaming the streets a free man, but there’s nothing he can do about that, right? At first he thought it was Miller’s ominous parting comment of “It’s been dealt with” that gave him pause. What had she meant by that? Dealt with, how? But even after Becca Fisher cleared up that little misunderstanding he was no more inclined to jump in a taxi and leave than before. What was it about this bloody place?

 

He swipes a hand across his newly-trimmed beard. Last night, after returning from Miller’s, he’d studied himself properly in the mirror for the first time in months, and was surprised to discover just how out-of-control his beard had become. For years he sported the clean-shaven look, and then Sandbrook happened and he just really didn’t give a shit about his appearance anymore. Overcome by the need to tidy himself up, he’d got to work and by the time he was done his facial hair was more stubble than beard, similar to how he wore it when he first came to Broadchurch.

 

His morning’s a busy one. He checks out early, carefully sidestepping Becca’s questions regarding where he’s moving on to. From there he heads to Morrison’s to buy groceries – even going as far as to select sausages for the dreaded barbecue. Arriving at the cottage he surveys the chaos left by the combined efforts of Claire, Lee, and SOCO with disgust. He gets to work, straightening the upstairs, before moving on to the kitchen. Discovering some tools in the garden shed, he even manages to nail the leg back on the kitchen table.

 

The name ‘Oliver Stevens’ pops up several times on his Blackberry, but Alec just keeps hitting the ‘end call’ button. If only there was an equivalent function for face-to-face contact. Not only would it come in handy when dealing with the likes of Oliver, but it would also be a useful tool to use on Olly’s aunt when she starts firing endless bloody questions at him. He closes his eyes, aware he’ll have to deal with the young journalist at some stage as he’s sure it won’t take the little wanker long to track him down!

 

Tess phones about half ten to find out when he’s leaving Broadchurch. He tells her he’s decided to stay, and she flings Daisy at him to make him feel guilty. He tries to explain that he feels like he still has unfinished business in this village, but Tess isn’t having a bar of it. Their conversation ends on bad terms, but that’s pretty much par for the course for all their interactions these days.

 

Just before twelve there’s a knock on the door, and he opens it to find Miller and wee Fred gracing his doorstep.

 

Miller holds up a plastic bag, and thermos. “I made sandwiches,” she gushes.

 

With their smiling faces, wind-tossed curls, and rosy cheeks, Miller and Fred have never looked more like mother and son than in this moment. He can see traces of Joe in Tom, but it must be some comfort to Miller that neither boy closely resembles their father.

 

“Your beard,” Miller exclaims. “It’s shorter. It looks better, if you don’t mind me saying?” Her gaze lands on his navy-blue jersey. “And you’re not wearing a suit!”

 

“Well, erm, I’m wearing the trousers... and the shirt.” He’s uncomfortable by her close scrutiny of his physical appearance. 

 

“Quite right. Half a suit, then.” There’s a glint in her eye, which makes Alec wonder if she’s teasing him. He’s probably wrong; he’s always been rubbish at reading emotions.

 

“Are you gonna invite us in or not?” She struggles to hold onto Fred, who’s squirming to get down.

 

“All right,” he grunts, stepping aside to allow Miller, and mini-Miller to, as per usual, invade his territory.

 

“Here, take these.” She thrusts the sandwich bag and thermos at him, and heads for the sitting room like she owns the place.

 

He hears the sound of a bag being unzipped, and Miller speaking softly to Fred, “Oh look, here’s your police car... and... your tool set.” Alec feels a small smile tugging at his lips. He should’ve let Fred fix the table.

 

“Do you think Fred’ll be okay by himself in there?” Miller asks, as she joins him in the kitchen. “It’s still a mess from where Lee trashed it.”

 

Alec scoffs, “He’ll be fine, Miller. We can hear him from here. Everyone’s so bloody concerned with health and safety these days.”

 

Miller doesn’t disagree. She bustles around his kitchen preparing to set the table for lunch. “Fred and I were at a bit of a loose end so we thought we’d bring you lunch.” Opening the fridge, she stops short. “Oh, there’s food in here!”

 

“Yeah,” Alec says. “You haven’t yet had the opportunity to eat me out of house and home.”

 

“Oh... still not over that,” she mutters. “See you’ve cleaned up in here at least.” Her mouth flies open when she sees the mended table. “Wow, did you fix it?” She tests its weight like she expects it to collapse at the slightest movement.

 

“Close your mouth, Miller. It’s not that astonishing.”

 

She grins at him, “It’s brilliant.”

 

He can’t explain it, but the way she’s beaming at him causes his heart to start to race. _Bloody pacemaker must be acting up,_ he thinks.

 

Soon the three of them are seated at the kitchen table, eating ham, cheese, tomato, and lettuce sandwiches. Well not Fred – his is marmite.

 

They’re nearly finished when Miller says, “Paul Coates phoned early this morning to report that Joe’s arrived in Sheffield. His vicar friend will keep tabs on him; make sure he stays put.”

 

Alec nods, “For how long? It’s not ideal is it?” The second the words are out of his mouth he regrets them. He’s just so frustrated and angry over the whole situation, but he shouldn’t be taking it out on Miller – she doesn’t deserve it! He opens his mouth to apologise but before he can she slams back her chair and leaps to her feet.

 

“Of course it’s not bloody _ideal_ ,” she screams at him. “What am I supposed to do? Joe’s been found not guilty in a court of law. I’m going to spend the rest of _his_ life looking over my shoulder, worrying that he could turn up at any time. That one day he might decide to kidnap my kids and flee the country. I’m just trying to deal with the situation the best way I know how.”

 

Fred’s initially startled by his mother’s sudden exit from the table, but by the time she’s halfway through her tirade, he’s reabsorbed in his lunch. _He’s used to us sniping at one another_ , Alec thinks.

 

Hands on her hips, Miller’s glaring at him, waiting for an explanation. If her eyes were laser beams he’d be history. Just as quickly her anger dissolves, her lower lip starts to tremble, and she looks at him with huge sad eyes, glistening with tears. He shifts in his chair, wondering if she’s aware of just how much that expression affects him.

 

He feels like the worst arsehole in Britain!

 

He’s itching to give her a hug, but she’s made it clear she doesn’t want that. Maybe he could offer to shake her hand? The thought relaxes him somewhat and he starts to smile.

 

Miller gapes at him, “Do you think this is funny?” She throws up her hands. “Unbelievable!”

 

He takes a deep breath, looking her straight-on. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said what I did about Joe.”

 

She sinks back down in her chair, “What if... what if Joe hurts... another boy?” She struggles to get the words out.

 

“You can’t take that on board, Miller,” he says. “It’s those bloody jurors who need a swift kick in the arse. Not one brain cell between the lot of them. You said it yourself – Coates’ vicar friend is keeping an eye on Joe. There’s nothing else you can do.”

 

“It’ll never be enough.”

 

“I know.”

 

Miller starts scratching around in the plastic bag she brought with her. Retrieving an apple she eyes it forlornly. “Why did I have to go all healthy and only bring fruit? You’re a bad influence on me. I really need chocolate after that emotional outburst.”

 

He inclines his head towards the cupboard under the microwave, “There’s some in there.”

 

Her face lights up. “Really?” She’s on her feet and across the room as soon as he’s finished speaking.

 

She returns to the table with an eight pack of Kit Kats. Ripping into the packet she looks at him questionably, “I didn’t think you liked chocolate?”

 

There’s no way he’s going to tell her that on his earlier trip to the supermarket he added a bag of chocolate to his trolley because he’s noticed she eats an abundance of the stuff. He fumbles for an explanation, “It’s for wee Fred.”

 

“Ah... bless.” Stripping open a bar, she passes it to her son. “Fred,” she coos. “Look what Uncle Alec bought you?” Fred happily accepts the treat, shooting a toothy grin in Alec’s direction. She selects one for herself, “Sure you don’t want one?”

 

He shakes his head, noticing that she puts the bag on the table rather than away. He sighs inwardly. He’s going to have to go shopping for more chocolate at this rate!

 

After lunch Miller insists they straighten the sitting room. As per usual, she prattles on endlessly as they work. She tells him Tom’s at a friend’s house. She reminds him about the Latimer’s barbecue. She admires the curtains. She gets excited when she spots a fox on the outskirts of the garden. Then she gets Fred in on the act, and the two of them marvel over the fox together. She’s driving him mad. _What does she have against silence?_ Alec wonders.

 

“Hardy.” It’s not long before Miller interrupts his reverie.

 

“Hmmm.”

 

“Do you know much about social networking?”

 

“Oh, god, no.” He’s surprised by the question. Why would she think he would know anything about sites designed for people to socialise with each other?

 

“I’m worried about Tom,” Miller says. “I hardly use the internet outside of work, and I know I should be monitoring what Tom’s doing online. Joe used to take care of all that.”

 

“Talk to... your nephew. We know Oliver’s a big fan of Twitter,” he says sarcastically.

 

“How untidy is the upstairs?” Miller asks, changing the subject. He’s guessing the ‘Twitter’ incident is still a sore point for her.

 

“I tidied up there this morning. I’ve had to order new linen cos I discovered that someone – Claire or Lee I’m guessing, rather than SOCO – ripped up all the sheets for the double bed, so I’m sleeping in the spare bedroom for now.”

 

He can’t be sure, because the radiators are on, but it looks like Miller is blushing. She clears her throat, “While we’re on the subject, I have to ask... You definitely didn’t sleep with Claire, right?”

 

He takes a deep breath, mentally counting to ten, before releasing it. “Is this something you’re gonna keep bringing up as often as possible, like you do with the promotion? You were there. You heard what I said to Claire the other day.”

 

“I know. You said you’d never slept with her, but… but was that the truth, or just something you said to get her talking?”

 

“For god’s sake!”

 

“What am I supposed to think? I asked you twice whether you slept with Claire and both times you ignored me.”

 

“Cos it was none of your business – “

 

“It was my business, cos it affected the case we were working on. You pleaded me for my help, but how did you expect me to get to the truth when you kept holding things back from me.”

 

“Pleaded you for your help? Bollocks!”

 

“Just answer the question. Did you ever sleep with Claire Ripley?”

 

“No, I bloody didn’t. I never slept with Claire. Are you happy?”

 

“Thank you. But why couldn’t you have just been honest with me in the first place?”

 

“Cos I was angry that you would think I would jeopardise a case – a case I gave up everything for – just so I could have sex with a woman who was at best a witness, but more than likely a suspect? Is that the kind of detective you think I am? Is that the kind of man you think I am.”

 

It’s one of the longest speeches he’s ever made in regards to himself and he’s almost out-of-breath by the sheer emotional release of it all by the time he’s finished speaking.

 

Miller’s face crumbles. She lowers her head. “No… I don’t, I don’t… I’m sorry.” She meets his eye. “I know you think you can’t trust anyone, but you can trust me.”

 

He holds her gaze, “I do… I trust you, but I’m not someone who opens up easily, Miller.”

 

“I know,” Miller’s head wobbles like one of those bobble-heads on a car dashboard.

 

“I’ll… try harder,” he promises, and in that moment he truly believes that he could trust Ellie Miller with his deepest, darkest secrets, and that she would never betray his trust. The realisation is a sobering thought!

 


	4. Chapter 4

ELLIE

 

“Tom, hurry up!” Ellie calls up the stairs. “Hardy’s taxi will be here any minute, and then we’re leaving.”

 

Tom stomps along the landing to stand at the top of the stairs. “Why does _he_ have to come with us to the Latimer’s?”

 

Ellie, struggling to get Fred into his jacket, stills at Tom’s words. “What?”

 

“Detective Hardy,” Tom grumbles, dragging himself down the stairs. “Why is he going with us?”

 

“Cos he was invited, he’s my friend, and also cos we used to work together.”

 

Tom shuffles his feet, “He’s not your date is he?”

 

“No… no,” Ellie protests, although she’s a little concerned that she doesn’t feel as offended by the misunderstanding as she once would have been. She pushes the thought way down. “Where would you get a ridiculous idea like that from?” she asks.

 

Tom shrugs, “Dunno.”

 

“We’re definitely not dating. But I still expect you to treat all my friends with respect, okay?”

 

Tom nods, “Yes, Mum.”

 

“Good,” she says, just as a taxi pulls up outside.

 

Moments later Hardy appears in the doorway wearing his usual disgruntled expression.

 

Ellie hasn’t seen Hardy since she and Fred visited him at the cottage on Wednesday. She’s still having trouble thinking of Claire’s cottage as his house! Her paid court leave ended earlier in the week, so she’s back working as a traffic officer, travelling all the way to Devon for a job she hates. It’s been difficult and tiring fitting her shifts around Tom’s school hours and Fred’s child minder’s schedule, but she’s managing. She doesn’t have much of a choice!

 

Fred’s squeal gets her attention, and she can’t help the laugh that escapes her when her young son launches himself at Hardy’s legs, wrapping his little arms around Hardy’s knees.

 

“Oh look, Har-dy!” Ellie sing songs. “Fred’s happy to see his Uncle Alec.”

 

Hardy’s response is his usual octave of groans. Patting Fred awkwardly on the back, he nods at her eldest son, “All right, Tom?”

 

“Hello,” Tom says. To Ellie he sounds a little too polite, but at least he’s doing what he’s told.

 

“Tom,” she tells him. “You’ll need to hold Fred’s hand until we reach the field.” She picks up a plate from the hall table, “While I carry this.”

 

Hardy eyes the chocolate cake in her hands suspiciously, “You _baked_ that?”

 

She tries to look offended and fails, “Why is that so hard to believe?”

 

“Mum ordered it from the cake shop in the High Street,” Tom pipes up.

 

“I knew it!” Hardy looks triumphant. He grins at Tom, who grins back.

 

The knowing smile Hardy shares with Tom, is eerily reminiscent of the night he came to dinner and bonded with Joe at her expense. She bites down hard on her bottom lip in an attempt not to think about anything Joe-related. She’s determined to have a nice time today, surrounded by family and friends, free of this awful reality that is her life.

 

Tom reaches for his brother’s hand, “C’mon, Fred.”

 

Fred twists away, shaking his little head. “No.” He makes a grab for Hardy’s hand. “Unck Ack!” he demands.

                                                                                                           

“Oh, he said your name.” Ellie exclaims, while Hardy glares at her, “How adorable.”

 

The image of an over six-foot tall Hardy holding onto Fred’s hand, while struggling to walk normally from her house to the Latimers, will forever be seared into her brain. When they reach the safety of the playing field she opens her mouth to tell Hardy that it’s okay to let Fred walk on his own, but her son shows no sign of wanting to let go of Hardy’s hand and the two of them just look so precious together, that she decides not to mention it. But she feels guilty – well sort of!

 

* * *

 

 “I’ve never seen anyone wear a suit to a barbecue before?” Beth’s standing at the kitchen window that overlooks the back garden. “Does he own anything else?”

 

“A jersey…” Ellie’s distracted, busy making room in the fridge for the cake she brought with her. Shoving aside a bowl of potato salad, she just manages to slide it in. “Oh, and I’ve seen him in pyjamas,” she mutters.

 

Ellie closes the fridge to see Beth regarding her with an amused, satisfied smirk. Realising what she’s just said, and how it sounds, Ellie’s face reddens.

 

“Not like that,” she stammers. “I visited him at his house after his pacemaker surgery. His wife… ex-wife… was there as well!” Pausing, she runs a hand through her hair. “I’ve just made it sound ten times worse, haven’t I? Like some kind of disturbing threesome!” Ellie’s grateful she didn’t blurt out the story of the night they shared a hotel bed. Her friend would’ve had a field day with that!

 

Beth laughs, letting her off the hook. “I believe you. Thousands wouldn’t though.”

 

Ellie joins Beth next to the window. Hardy’s standing with Mark and Nigel Carter. She watches Mark attempt to make conversation and sees Hardy answer, but then the three of them fall silent, staring at each other. “Oh god,” she moans. “I’d better go and rescue him.”

 

“No… look, it’s okay, Jocelyn and Maggie are heading his way. He’s gets on with them, doesn’t he?”

 

“I… think so.”

 

“Well, there you go then. He’ll be fine for a bit.” She pours Chardonnay into two glasses, and hands one to Ellie. “How’s Lucy getting on?”

 

“Dunno. She’s not allowed any contact with us for the first week. It’s one of the conditions of her treatment. After that she’s permitted to call once a day, from a landline of course. No mobiles allowed, especially when you’re being treated for an online gambling addiction. Poor Olly’s a bit stressed over that. He’s used to talking to his mum every day.”

 

“It’s cos he’s grown up in the digital age. The concept of someone being unreachable is completely foreign to him.”

 

Ellie chuckles inwardly. Beth’s talking like she’s so old, but in reality she’s not much older than Olly. She sneaks another look out the window, relieved to see Hardy sort of smiling at something Maggie’s saying. She’s secretly chuffed over how well he’s coping by himself in a social situation. Fred zips past the window with Ben Haywood’s young son in tow. She really should be out there supervising, but there are enough adults around, and the garden’s enclosed.

 

Carrying a soccer ball, an out-of-breath Tom runs into the house.

 

“Oi, no running inside!” says Ellie, wagging a finger up and down at him. “Are you keeping an eye on Fred?”

 

Tom throws the ball in the air and catches it, “Nah. Think Mark is.”

 

“Hi Tom,” Beth opens the fridge. “Coke?”

 

“Ta, Mrs. Latimer.” Accepting the cold beverage, he pops the tab. “Mum, me, Olly, Chloe and Nige are gonna play soccer.”

 

“Okay, sweetheart.” Ellie’s proud of him for letting her know. She knows he’s aware that she worries about him and Fred more than ever now that Joe’s been acquitted.

 

“Before you go…” Beth’s handing Tom a plastic bag with the familiar black and yellow Morrison’s logo on the outside. “I wanted to give you this.”

 

Placing his drink and ball on the kitchen table, Tom peeks into the bag. His face lights up as he pulls out a small soft toy. “It’s Danny’s mini-monkey,” he exclaims, running a hand over the monkey’s head.

 

“It’s Danny’s second favourite monkey,” Beth tells him.

 

“I remember,” Tom says.

 

Ellie’s eyes are damp. “Are you sure, Beth?” she asks.

 

Like Ellie, Beth’s fighting back her own tears. She nods, “Danny would’ve wanted Tom to have it.”

 

“I promise I’ll take good care of it,” Tom says solemnly, placing it back in the bag.

 

Ellie reaches for it. “I’ll put it up in Beth’s room with my handbag.”

 

“Thanks Mum.” Retrieving his ball, Tom disappears through the sliding door. “Wait up, Olly!” Ellie hears him yell.

 

* * *

 

Ellie searches the garden for Hardy. She’ll kill him if he’s left without telling her. Maybe she shouldn’t have left him to fend for himself for so long.

 

She does at least locate Fred, sitting next to Maggie, picture book open on his lap. Seeing that he’s happily occupied, she moves on.

 

Finally, she spies Hardy, standing near the fence talking to Becca Fisher. And not just talking, he’s actually smiling. An unexpected spark of possessiveness surges through her. She tries to tell herself that the feeling has nothing to do with Hardy, but everything to do with the fact that she’s always been a little envious of Becca’s natural poise and beauty, but she can’t quite convince herself. Amazing body aside, Becca’s blond hair is long, smooth, and artfully styled into tidy waves, whereas her own hair resembles the woven stainless steel coils on the scourer she uses to remove burnt on food from saucepans.

 

Making her way in their direction, she notices Paul Coates, staring at Becca, a glass of orange juice clutched tightly in his hand, recalls Lucy mentioning that Paul and Becca were seeing one another. Definitely looks like he’s not over her and that he’s no happier than she is over Hardy and Becca spending time together.

 

“Hiya,” she says, cringing over how chirpy her voice sounds, aware that she’s on her second glass of Chardonnay, and wine always goes straight to her head.

 

“I was just telling Alec an amusing story about one of my hotel guests,” Becca says in that soft breathy way she speaks.

 

“Oh… I’d love to hear it.” Did Becca Fisher really just call him Alec? Why is she allowed to call him Alec? She waits for _Alec_ to correct Becca, seething inwardly when he doesn’t.

 

“Well, I just finished it. Shall I tell it again?” She looks uncertainly between Ellie and Hardy.

 

Taking a large gulp of wine, Ellie almost chokes in the process. “Er… no, that’s fine.”

 

Raising his eyebrows, Hardy looks at her like she’s lost the plot, and she thinks maybe she has. “All right, Miller?”

 

“Uh-huh.”

 

Chloe walks over, holding Lizzie. Grateful for the distraction, Ellie reaches out and tickles the baby’s cheek. “Hi, lovely,” she coos. “What a gorgeous coat! Where’d you get it? She admires the pale pink quilted design, with the heart-shaped buttons.

 

“Gran sent it. Think she bought it from Mothercare,” Chloe says.

 

“Oh… how is Mark’s mum?” Ellie inquires politely.

 

“She’s good,” Chloe says. “We’re thinking of going to Swansea soon, so Gran can meet Lizzie.”

 

“The wee lass looks a lot like my daughter Daisy when she was that age,” Hardy says.

 

“How old is she?” Chloe asks.

 

Hardy looks from Chloe to Lizzie, his expression blank. “The baby? Why’re you asking me?”

 

Ellie has to bite down on the inside of her cheek to stop herself from bursting out laughing, “Your daughter, Hardy.”

 

“Erm… right. She turns sixteen next month.”

 

“You should invite her to Broadchurch in the school holidays,” Chloe suggests. “I’d be happy to show her around.” She sounds a little wistful. Ellie remembers Beth telling her that Chloe’s grown apart from most of her friends in recent months. Since Danny, they’ve been unsure how to act around her, and the fact that Chloe’s recently left school hasn’t helped matters.

 

Hardy nods, “I’ll ask her.”

 

Becca laughs, “You don’t look old enough to have a sixteen year-old daughter!” She touches his arm.

 

Turning so Becca and Hardy can’t see, Chloe wiggles her eyebrows at Ellie, and mouths, _what the fuck!_

_What the fuck, indeed,_ Ellie thinks, narrowing her eyes at Becca.

 

“Tea’s ready.” Beth calls.

 

At the buffet-style table set up next to the barbecue, Ellie watches as Becca piles her plate with salad, and then proceeds to cut an already small piece of steak in half, adding one half to her plate. Looking down at her own plate, Ellie frowns – potato salad, a buttered roll, a large piece of steak, and she was just about to add two sausages!

 

“See you.” Becca says, picking up her plate. She walks away to join Olly, Maggie, and Jocelyn, wiggling her hips as she goes. Her action is completely lost on Hardy, who’s too busy poking a pair of tongs at the plate of steaks, critically eying each piece of meat, before finally selecting one.

 

“Would you like a sausage, _Alec_?” Ellie flutters her eyelashes at him and does her best imitation of Becca’s voice, which comes out sounding nothing like her.

 

Hardy gets the reference anyway, “Shut up.”

 

Dishing up the rest of her food, she stalks away from him. Some of the guests have taken their food inside, while others are dotted in small groups around the garden, but Ellie needs a moment alone so she sits herself down on the two-seater swing seat. It’s just starting to get dark but Beth has placed various tea candles around the garden, including one on the small wooden table next to the swing.

 

Hardy hasn’t gotten the hint, because pretty soon he’s standing in front of her, frowning down at her. “Why are you sitting here?”

 

“Cos I want to be alone.”

 

“Miller, don’t be like that!” He lowers his lanky frame to sit next to her, falling against her in the process, and almost throwing his plate of food in her lap, as the seat of the swing squeaks perilously under his weight.

 

“That’s right, squash me,” she snaps.

 

“Sorry.” He shuffles away, but not far enough because his thigh is still brushing against hers.

 

“Bit cosy!” Ellie nudges his leg. “Do you have to sit so close?”

 

“I’m trying not to.” He moves again just to be thrown back. “Bloody, swing. I think it’s lower in the middle.”

 

Ellie starts to giggle uncontrollably. She’s definitely had too much wine. “Sit still!” she gasps. “My foods almost ending up on the ground, and so is yours.”

 

“Make up your mind, Miller!”

 

“Well, don’t you two look all romantic?” Olly materialises out of nowhere, like a snake emerging from the grass, smirking at their close proximity on the swing. His gaze drifts to the candle, and to Ellie’s mortification the word ‘love’ is inscribed into the glass holder. She sniffs the air, smelling jasmine. It’s a bloody scented-candle to boot!

 

Olly rests a hand against the wooden frame of the swing. “Hope I’m not interrupting?”

 

“You’re always interrupting,” Hardy grumbles.

 

“Go away, Olly,” Ellie sighs.

 

Olly turns his attention to Hardy, “Not leaving town after all, then?”

 

“I thought about it, but I just don’t quite know how I’d get by without these little chats of ours, Oliver.”

 

“You owe me a Sandbrook interview,” is his parting shot.

 

Once he’s out of earshot Hardy groans, “Shit. Not sure how I’m going to get out of that one.”

 

“Just give him the interview. It’s your own fault for promising.”

 

Hardy scrubs a hand down his face, “Aye.”

 

They eat in silence for a while before Ellie asks: “So, how are you surviving your first Broadchurch barbecue?”

 

“Better than I expected. I even quite like some of the people.”

 

Ellie peers at him shyly, “Like Becca Fisher?”

 

“Christ, you’re like a broken record. You’re the one who wanted me to socialise with the villagers, remember?”

 

“Yes,” she says, sucking a breath through gritted teeth. Reaching for their empty plates, Ellie places them on the wooden table. “I’m just so relieved Beth and I are back on speaking terms. I need the Latimer’s in my life and so do Tom and Fred. You should’ve seen Tom and Mark chatting away on the beach the other day, and Fred was so happy to see Beth, after not having seen her in months.” She pauses for a moment. “Do you think Fred remembers Joe?”

 

“Erm, dunno. I’m not sure how long kids his age retain their memories for. But you just said he recognised Beth, erm, so it’s highly likely he still remembers Joe.”

 

“He used to wake up every night crying for his dad, but he’s stopped doing that lately.”

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

“He’ll forget Joe soon enough, though.”

 

“Yes.”

 

“He’s the lucky one.”

 

Placing his arm along the back of the swing, Hardy leans forward his deep brown eyes probing hers. “Miller, you’re probably the strongest person I’ve even met. You will get through this.”

 

She feels her body warming at the compliment, “Am I?”

 

“Yes.”

 

He’s inching closer, too close. She feels like she’s tied up in knots.

 

Next thing, hurricane Fred is there, climbing up to squeeze in between them. “Swing, Mummy.”

 

Laughing, Ellie kisses the top of his little curly head, grateful for the interruption. She’s not sure what just happened but she’s almost positive Hardy was about to kiss her, and even worse, she’s pretty sure she was going to let him!

 

* * *

 

The Miller’s and Latimer’s are smiling and laughing, exchanging goodbye hugs and kisses. Most of the guests have left, except for Nige and Olly who are still hanging out in the sitting room, drinking. Ellie’s feeling pleasantly tipsy, as she thanks Mark and Beth for the lovely night. She’s aware of Hardy hovering next to her undoubtedly uncomfortable by their over-the-top displays of affection, but she doesn’t care.

 

“We’ll have to do this again really soon, Ell,” Mark says, cuffing Tom playfully about the head.

 

Ellie smiles, “I’d love that.” A very sleepy Fred starts to grizzle, holding up his arms for Ellie to pick him up.

 

“I’ll take him,” Hardy says.

 

“Your surgery,” Ellie points out. ”You’re not supposed to lift anything heavy.”

 

“Stop fussing,” Hardy insists, lifting her son effortlessly into his arms. Fred winds his chubby arms around Alec’s neck, and rests his little head on his shoulder. The sight warms her heart. Reaching over, she pats Fred’s back, dangerously close to where Hardy’s hand is resting. Quickly she jerks it away, the earlier almost-kiss still foremost in her mind.

 

Heavy footsteps on the driveway has them all spinning around, to peer anxiously out into the dark.

 

Tom’s holding a torch in preparation for the walk home. Turning it on, he shines it in the direction of the noise. His beam lands on an out-of-breath Paul and Becca hurrying towards them.

 

“It’s Joe,” Paul’s gasping for air. “He went out around lunchtime and never came back. He could be on his way here right now!”


	5. Chapter 5

ALEC

 

All hell breaks loose following Coates’ revelation. Miller gasps, stumbling backwards, Beth shakes her head repeatedly, and Chloe and Tom look like they’re about to start crying.

 

Mark gets right up in Paul’s face, shaking a fist at him. “Joe’s been gone since lunch, and we’re just hearing about it now?”

 

“Joe’s not a prisoner, Mark. He’s allowed to go out,” Paul says quietly, backing up a couple of steps. “The half-way house has a strict curfew. They lock the doors at 9pm sharp. When Joe hadn’t shown up by then my friend notified me.”

 

Alec can’t believe what he’s hearing. “Four sodding days your friends been keeping track of Joe, and he’s lost him already. What’s the point of him?” In his arms, a nearly asleep Fred, lets out a wail at the disturbance. Miller tries to take him, but Alec waves her away. Continuing to glare at Paul, he gently rocks the baby.

 

Becca steps between Paul and Mark. “I can’t believe you’re _both_ putting the blame on Paul. Joe would still be here if it wasn’t for Paul’s idea.”

 

“No, he can’t come back here, he can’t!” Beth puts a hand to her mouth.

 

Chloe clutches Beth’s arm, “It’ll be okay, Mum.”

 

Anger subsiding, Mark moves away from Paul to gather his wife and daughter in his arms.

 

Tom’s looking around wildly, as if he expects his father to jump out of the bushes at any moment. “Mum, what are we gonna do?” he asks. Shaking her head, Miller puts an arm around his shoulders.

 

Alec takes charge. “Inside, Miller, Tom.” he tells them. Still carrying Fred, he brushes past the Latimer’s and heads for the sitting room.

 

Nigel jumps to his feet, when Alec walks into the room. “Oi, what’s going on?”

 

Seeing Fred in Alec’s arms Olly says: ‘You’re becoming quite domesticated aren’t you?”

 

Grim-faced, Alec says: “Joe missed curfew at the half-way house.”

 

It’s Olly’s turn to jump to his feet. Alarm crosses his face, “Oh my god!”

 

Alec settles Fred on the sofa. The little boy rolls onto his side, murmuring incoherently, and sticks his thumb in his mouth. There’s a blanket hanging over the back of the sofa, so he pulls it free and covers Fred with it.

 

The others slowly file into the room. Wearing identical numb expressions, Beth, and Chloe slump down at the dining table, while Paul and Becca linger near the kitchen area. Miller sags into the armchair Olly has just vacated, her eyes glassy and distant. Tom perches himself on the arm, and covers his mum’s hand with his.

 

Mark is the last to enter, closing the door to the sitting room behind him. Straight away Nigel inches over to him, whispering urgently. “Mate, where do you keep the torches?”

 

Locating one in the kitchen drawer, Mark hands it to him. “I’m gonna check around outside,” Nigel informs his friend and co-worker. Tugging open the sliding door, he darts around the side of the house.

 

“Ell. You and the boys are sleeping here tonight,” Beth insists.

 

Miller voice shakes, “Thanks.”

 

Stepping in front of her chair, Alec notices she’s gripping the arms of the chair so tightly her knuckles are turning white. “Stay at the cottage,” he says gently. “There’s plenty of room, and Joe doesn’t know about that place.”

 

Her tortured expression is playing havoc with his insides. She nods before turning her attention to her nephew. “Olly, you’d better come with us. Lucy’s away and I don’t like the idea of Joe knocking on your door trying to find out where we’ve gone.”

 

Opening and closing his mouth like a fish, all Alec can do is gape. By the look on Olly’s face it’s as if he’s trying to decide which situation is worse, spending the night at Alec Hardy’s house or dealing with his irate uncle.

 

Olly averts his eyes, “I’ll be fine.”

 

Miller gives him her ‘I’m not taking no for an answer so don’t bother arguing with me’ glare. “You’re coming.”

 

Becca sidles up to Olly, “You’re welcome to stay at the hotel, free of charge of course.”

 

“Oh, cheers, Becca.” He shoots Miller a tentative smile, “I’m sorted, Auntie Ellie.”

 

A beam of light appears in the sitting room window, starling nearly everyone, but it’s just Nigel coming back. He steps through the door, gripping a cricket bat, teeth-bared, nostrils flaring, “Nothing looks suspicious outside.” He clenches the bat tighter. “But, if the bastard shows up here, I’ll be ready,” he snarls.

 

Alec groans inwardly. _That’s all we need,_ he thinks. _An intoxicated idiot waving a bat around!_ “Erm… You do remember that two of us in this room are police officers, right?” His words lack conviction, even to his own ears. The truth is the way he feels right now – watching Miller crumble before his eyes – if Joe does decide to turn up anywhere in the vicinity of Broadchurch then he might just be snatching that bat right out of Nigel’s hands to deal with Joe himself.

 

A hangdog look crosses Nigel’s face, but he doesn’t lower the bat.

 

“Nige put that down!” Beth hisses. She looks from Chloe, to Fred, to Tom. “There are kids present. Use your brain.”

 

“Erm… righto. Sorry Beth.” He places the bat on the coffee table.

 

Miller turns to Alec. “We should be heading off. By the time the four of us walk to my place and grab some stuff, it will be after midnight by the time we reach the cottage.”

 

“I would offer you a lift, but I’ve had too many beers,” Mark apologises.

 

“So have I.” Beth looks around the room for an alternative, but both Nigel and Olly are definitely over the limit, Paul and Becca came on foot, and Chloe doesn’t have her licence yet. “I could call you a taxi?”

 

“Are you alright to drive?” Alec asks Miller, recalling she’s had wine to drink. Although the way she looks right now – slack expression, wet, dull eyes – you wouldn’t pick she’s been drinking. He would give anything to turn back the clock to earlier in the evening – longs to see her happy and smiling again.

 

“I’ve only had two glasses, and the events of the past fifteen minutes have sobered me right up.”

 

At the door, Miller and Beth hug. “Take care,” Beth says, kissing Miller on the cheek.

 

“We were having such a nice time tonight and Joe had to go and ruin it.” Miller says in a flat, monotone voice.

 

“C’mon, Miller.” Alec is already heading out the door with Fred. “Let’s go.”

 

“I’ll call you as soon as I know anything,” Paul promises. 

  

* * *

 

 

Alec hates sleeping on bloody sofas. For a start he’s far too long for it so he either has to sleep with his legs sticking out the end or with his knees bent at an odd angle, neither of which are ideal. The cushions constantly shift beneath his weight the gap between them increasing at a rapid rate, and to top it all off he has a crick in his neck because the arm of the sofa prevents him from positioning his pillow comfortably. What was he thinking doing the gentlemanly thing and giving up his bed for Miller!

 

The creak of a floorboard out in the hall has him sitting bolt upright!

 

“Who’s there?” he calls out sharply.

 

Tom appears in the doorway, clutching the soft toy of Danny Latimers. He hasn’t put it down since he’s been told Joe’s gone A.W.O.L.

 

“Can’t sleep?” Alec asks.

 

Tom shakes his head, “Fred’s making these really annoying snuffling noises.” He steps further into the room. ‘And I… I thought I heard a noise outside the window but it was just a branch scraping against the glass. Wh… what if Dad does show up?” He looks Alec up and down critically. “You don’t look very strong?”

 

“Thanks a lot!”

 

“Dad’s a big guy,” Tom mutters.

 

“Don’t worry, you, and your mum and brother, are safe here, I promise.”

 

Tom nods. “Can I watch some telly?” he asks hopefully.

 

“In the room I’m sleeping in, what do you think?”

 

Tom shrugs, “I think… you’re not asleep.”

 

“Are you arguing with me? You really are your mother’s son, aren’t you?” He throws back the covers, “Fine. I was just thinking about making a cup of tea, anyway.” He pads to the door in his bare feet. A thought occurs to him, and he turns back to Tom, who’s making himself at home on the sofa. “Do you like cocoa?”

 

Tom looks at him strangely. _Has he never heard of cocoa?_ Alec wonders. He feels for kids of today – he loved a good cuppa cocoa when he was growing up.

 

“Is that like hot chocolate?” Tom ventures. Picking up the TV remote from the coffee table he points it at the screen.

 

“Similar. It doesn’t have marshmallows.”

 

“I’ll try some… thanks,” Tom says, flicking through the channels.

 

Alec is rummaging in the cupboard for the box of cocoa, when he hears the sound of someone walking overhead, followed by footsteps on the stairs.

 

“Tom,” Miller says. “What are you doing up? It’s the middle of the night.”

 

“Hardy said I could… ”

 

“Well, he shouldn’t have. TV off, and bed… now!”

 

“But – “

 

“No buts, I’m your mum, which means I’m in charge. I may not be able to control much at the moment, but I can at least make sure my son gets a decent night’s sleep.”

 

Moments later, Tom’s stomping up the stairs.

 

“If you wake Fred –" Miller yells after him, which Alec thinks is a bit rich considering she’s making more noise than anyone.

 

He hears Miller’s slippers on the lino. He concentrates on adding boiling water to the cocoa.

 

“Don’t start,” she says through clenched teeth.

 

“I didn’t say anything!”

 

“You didn’t have to. I can tell you’re judging me. That you think I was too hard on Tom. That you think I’m losing it.”

 

“You got all that from my back. Bloody hell!” Adding milk to the cocoa it suddenly registers that Miller’s sent Tom to bed, so why on earth is he still making him a hot drink! Picking up the cup, he pours the entire contents down the sink, watching as it swirls down the plughole. “I’ll make you a cuppa tea?”

 

He turns around to find Miller wringing her hands, pacing back and forth. “Oh god, I should go up and apologise to Tom.”

 

“Leave it, Miller. Let the lad at least get some sleep tonight!”

 

Her mobile trills from her dressing gown pocket, causing them both to jump.

 

They look at each other for a beat, before Miller makes a grab for it.

 

“Yes,” she says, putting the phone on speaker, her hand shaking so badly that she’s having trouble holding onto it.

 

Tom’s fast appearance in the doorway, has Alec convinced that he’s snuck downstairs sometime in the last few minutes.

 

“Joe’s turned up, intoxicated,” Paul says. “His excuse was that he lost track of time. Perhaps my friend jumped the gun a little.”

 

“Really? You think so!” Alec raises his voice and gets as close to the speaker as possible. “Do you have any idea what you’ve put us through tonight?”

 

“Hardy,” Miller jerks the phone away from him. “Ignore him, Paul. Your friend did the right thing. We can never be too careful. Thanks for everything you’re doing for us.”

 

“You don’t have to thank me,” Paul says quietly, “Night, Ellie.” He disconnects.

 

Alec juts a finger at Miller, “His bloody vicar friend needs to get it together.”

 

Miller covers her face with her hands. “Just a false alarm,” She attempts a smile but it comes out as more of a grimace. She turns her attention to Tom, “Head up to bed, sweetheart, get some sleep. Everything’s okay now.”

 

She’s trying to sound reassuring for her son’s sake, but Alec can tell Tom’s not buying it for a second. But he nods obediently anyway, “All right.” After receiving a hug and kiss from his mum he heads upstairs.

 

Blinking furiously to hide the tears plainly visible in her eyes, Miller says, “Joe probably got drunk and stayed out on purpose, just to toy with us. We’re nothing but pawns to him.”

 

Alec shoves the door closed, just in case Tom gets it in his head to eavesdrop on their conversation. “Calm down, Miller. It’s all right.”

 

“No, it’s not bloody all right” Her breath hitches in her throat. “Nothing’s all right. I can’t live like this. I can’t.” The only other time he’s ever seen Miller this out-of-control is the day he had to tell her that her husband killed Danny Latimer.

 

He takes a step towards her, “Miller – “

 

She swipes at her eyes, in a vain attempt to keep the tears at bay. It’s obvious to him she’s fighting a losing battle. “It’s all too much,” she sniffs.

 

All he can do is stand by helplessly watching as she struggles to deal with the cruel weight, named Joe Miller, she’s carrying around on her shoulders. It’s becoming more and more difficult, almost impossible, for him not to reach out and comfort her. He has to fight to keep his arms at his sides.

 

As if sensing his anguish she lets out a sob holding out her arms for him. That’s all the permission he needs. Pulling her gently towards him, he wraps his arms around her holding her close and safe as she weeps into his chest. The tears come bubbling out of her in huge gasping, gulping shudders of pain and misery.

 

“I’m terrified he’s gonna come back,” she chokes out, the words muffled in his tee-shirt.

 

“I know, darling,” he soothes resting his chin against the top of her head.

 

They stay locked together until her tears have dried up, and she’s stopped shaking.

 

When they part he’s suddenly conscious of the fact that they’re both only wearing their pyjamas. At least Miller’s wearing a dressing gown over hers, unlike his thin tee-shirt and pyjama bottoms. “Erm –" he fumbles for the right words. “Do you want chocolate?”

 

Miller shakes her head, but there’s a smile playing on her lips. She wipes her eyes on the sleeve of her dressing gown. “Not so strong now, am I? She looks up at him with doe-eyes.”

 

“You are.” Before he can stop himself he leans over and brushes his lips across her forehead. It’s the lightest of touches, barely a kiss even, but he still feels a spark of heat course through his body. Miller looks stunned. Alec wonders if she felt it too.

 

She bites her bottom lip, drawing his attention to it. He must be really staring, because she drops her gaze. “Er… we should probably go to bed.”

 

“What?” He’s aware of the hopeful lilt in his voice.

 

Miller mouth falls open. “Separate beds... I’m upstairs, you’re on the sofa,” she babbles. She makes a point of looking at her watch, probably to avoid looking at him. “It’s after two.”

 

“Erm… of course, erm… sorry, sorry. That’s what I thought you meant.” Holding up his hands, he backs away, both to give her some space, and because he doesn’t trust himself around her right now. She’s never been so tempting.

 

In the hall they part ways.

 

Miller’s just reached the stairs when she whips around. “Hardy,” she whispers.

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Thanks for –" She trails off, unable to complete the sentence.

 

His lips slowly curve into a smile, “You’re welcome.”

 

Once she’s upstairs he collapses onto the sofa, a series of groans escaping his lips. It’s a long time before he falls asleep.

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just want to say how grateful I am to everyone for continuing to read, especially those who have left kudos and comments. :-)  
> ~Lisa.

ELLIE

 

Even though she’s only had four hours sleep, Ellie wakes up feeling surprisingly refreshed. Who knew crying in your former-Boss’ arms could be so beneficial for your sleep! The memory of his kiss comes flooding back. She’s sure she could pinpoint the exact spot his lips touched hers. Shamefaced, she buries her face in the pillow thinking if she’s this excited over a simple peck on the forehead how would she react if he kissed other parts of her.

 

Eek! She quickly rolls out of bed, _Hardy’s_ bed to be precise. She’s just shoving her feet into slippers when she hears Fred calling for her, “Mummy.”

 

“Coming.”

 

In the spare room, he’s wide awake, standing up in the travel cot, shaking the side. “Up, Mummy,” he demands, holding up his arms to her.

 

Picking him up, she smoothes a lock of hair out of his eyes, “Morning, darling.”

 

She pokes at the lump under the covers that is her eldest son, “Tom, time to get up.”

 

Letting out a moan, he rolls away from her to face the wall. “But it’s Sunday.”

 

“And this isn’t our house.” She whips open the curtains, causing Tom to squeeze his eyes shut and burrow further under the covers.

 

“Mum!”

 

“No arguments. I want to see you in the kitchen in ten minutes, or I’ll be bringing Fred upstairs to use you as a trampoline, got it!”

 

Balancing Fred on her hip, she heads downstairs.

 

She’s just opening a yogurt for Fred when Hardy walks into the kitchen looking like he hasn’t slept a wink the night before – bleary-eyed, hair sticking up all over, and rubbing furiously at his neck. It looks as if most of the beard he recently shaved off has grown back overnight.

 

“You look rough,” she says. Her eyes fall on his tee-shirt, the very tee-shirt she recalls clutching last night as she cried. Feeling her face heat she quickly turns away. “I’ve just put the kettle on.” Considering how formerly he dresses 99.9% of the time she kind of surprised to see him wandering around so freely in his pyjamas. She reminds herself that this is his house, and that she’s the intruder, but still.

 

He slumps down into a chair, resting his hand on his chin, blinking up at her.

 

“Unck Ack, Unck Ack!” Fred waves his spoon at him.

 

She wonders if she should be worried over how attached Fred is becoming to Hardy. After all he almost up and left town a few days ago, so what’s to stop him from leaving for real next time. And, then there’s Daisy. It’s not fair for her to expect him to be there for her children at the expense of his own. And, it’s not just Fred, judging by last night, she’s relying on him an awful lot as well. She’s become so used to having him around the past few months. She remembers how much she missed him in the few hours she thought he’d left the week before.

 

Ellie places a steaming cup of tea in front of Hardy. “Ta,” he says.

 

No sign of her son yet. “Tom,” she yells, near Hardy’s ear. “This is your final warning! Fred’s prepped and ready to go.”

 

Fred lets out an excited cackle, as if to signal that he’s ready to pounce.

 

In the process of taking a sip of drink, Hardy starts at the unexpected noise, sloshing hot tea over his hand. “Christ, Miller. Keep it down.”

 

“Sorry, it’s just at this rate I might have to leave Tom here,” she says. “You won’t see him till at least noon, and as long as you have a working internet connection he won’t be any bother.”

 

“Okay,” he eyes her warily. She can tell that he’s not quite sure whether she’s serious, or not.

 

“I’m kidding, Hardy.”

 

“Oh right, course you are, sorry.” He rubs at his neck again.

 

“Is there a pain in your neck?” she asks.

 

“Yes, it’s called, Miller,” he grumps. “Sorry,” he immediately apologies when she glares at him.

 

The way they’re dancing around one another, apologising for the silliest of things, doesn’t sit well with Ellie. It’s obvious they’re uncomfortable around one another because of what transpired between them the night before.

 

“You were really hard on Paul last night by the way. He’s not responsible for Joe.”

 

“That man’s always rubbed me the wrong way.”

 

“He helped me out with my divorce. Took the papers to Joe in prison on my behalf, convinced him to sign them. Without Joe’s signature the proceedings would’ve taken a lot longer.”

 

“I didn’t know that.”

 

“Well, now you do. So ease up on Paul, all right?”

 

* * *

 

ALEC

 

It’s because Ellie Miller cried her heart out in his arms that Alec Hardy finds himself on a mission.

 

A mission to track down every piece of information that has ever existed in regards to Joseph Michael Miller. He’s going to leave no stone unturned. So dedicated to his task he’s going to be that soon he’s going to know exactly what Joe ate for breakfast twenty years ago. He’s convinced himself there must be something dodgy in Joe’s past. While investigating Danny’s murder it was his belief that the person they were looking for was an amateur, a first time offender, and after he caught Joe he still believed that to be the case. Now he’s not so sure. Joe changing his plea, his conduct in court and his game-playing since his release has raised some red flags with Alec causing him to rethink his original assessment. If there’s something there to find he’s going to find it. Miller’s right!

 

After the Miller’s left on Sunday he got to work calling all his contacts, every person of any significance he’s ever worked with and/or encountered, in all his years in the police force. Most were willing to help, but a few were reluctant probably hoping they’d heard the last from him, now that the Sandbrook case is done with. But he’s Alec Hardy; he doesn’t take no for an answer!

 

Miller’s occupying his thoughts far too much. He keeps remembering the feel of her soft body pressed against his, the strawberry scent of her shampoo tantalizing his senses when he touched his lips to her forehead. He can’t deny it anymore, he wants her. He’s pretty sure he’s felt this way for awhile now and just didn’t want to admit it to himself. Question is; does Miller feel anything for him? He thinks she does, but whether or not it’s too soon for her he doesn’t know.

 

* * *

 

Wednesday morning see’s Alec walking through the door of his former employment, the Broadchurch Police Station. The desk sergeant on duty recognises him on sight and buzzes him in without Alec having to go through all the trouble of displaying identification.

 

Miller’s rung him several times during the past few days, but he’s kept the conversations short, feels guilty for keeping the fact that he’s looking into Joe a secret, but he doesn’t want to tell her until he’s found something concrete. She’s still dutifully travelling back-and-forth to Devon for a job she’s far too qualified for. He may not have thought so when they first met, but he’s come to think of her as a competent detective. He initially saw her ability to emphasise with people as a weakness, but he’s long since been proven wrong. She possesses an uncanny knack for making people feel at ease and open up, a definite asset during interviews and interrogations. That’s why he sought her out to help with Claire. Well that and also because he missed spending time with her. And then there’s Sandbrook! He meant what he said to her last week – he couldn’t have solved the case without her.

 

The lift doors open on the CID floor and he steps out into the glass-enclosed, open-plan area. Walking into a place he spent so much time in, in the months following Danny’s death, is disconcerting to say the least. His eyes are automatically drawn to Miller’s desk as if he still expects to see her sitting there. In her place is a heavyset officer, around thirty, whom Alec thinks is unfamiliar to him, but may not be since he paid little attention to the people he worked with. As long as they got the job done that was the extent of his interest in them. Miller would instantly be able to tell him if the DS was new, or not. Glancing in the direction of his old office, he finds it empty. His replacement DI, whoever he/she is, must be out. He briefly wonders whether Nigel’s been up to his old tricks, siphoning diesel from tractors again!

 

SOCO Brian walks out of the kitchenette area, carrying a cup of tea. He reacts with surprise to see Alec standing there. “S... DI Hardy. Heard you left town?’

 

“You heard wrong. By the way, you left the cottage in a bloody state when you were gathering forensics.”

 

Brian looks perplexed, “The cottage?”

 

Alec’s brow furrows. _Has Brian forgotten the Sandbrook case, already?_ , he wonders. “Erm… the cottage where Claire Ripley lived, I’m living there now.” He’s unsure why he’s sharing this with Brian. He normally doesn’t make a habit of going around volunteering personal information regarding his living arrangements, but he feels like he needs to make sure that ‘Dirty Brian’ knows he’s staying in Broadchurch.

 

“Oh, didn’t realise. Why are you here? Are you coming back as DI?” Brian looks like he’d rather be shot in the eye with a nail gun then work with him again.

 

“No. I’m still considered medically unfit.”

 

“How’s Ellie? Still working as a traffic cop?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“We miss her around here.” Brian smiles widely.

 

_Bet you do,_ Alec thinks.

 

He’s tempted to warn Brian off Miller, but he has no claim on her. He finds it difficult to keep his mouth shut though. He briefly wonders if Miller would go out with Brian if he asked her, or whether the fact that he once asked her out when she was a married woman would give her pause.

 

He coughs, “Erm… well excuse me, I have an appointment with Superintendent… erm…” Screwing up his face, he searches his memory for the woman’s name. It’s not going to bode well for him if he doesn’t remember it by the time he reaches her office. He briefly contemplates texting Miller and asking her, but he doesn’t really want her to know he’s here.

 

“Jenkinson,” Brian supplies.

 

“Thanks,” Alec says, as he walks away.

 

Outside the Super’s office he knocks on the glass door.

 

“Enter.” Superintendent Elaine Jenkinson looks up from behind her desk, and waves him inside.

 

“Good morning, Alec,” she says. Alec notes that she doesn’t look entirely happy to see him. He guesses she’s not going to buy him a ninety-nine this time.

 

He inclines his head politely, “Ma’am.”

 

The Superintendent indicates to the chair facing her desk, and he perches on the edge, posture rigid, hands in his lap.

 

“I must say I was surprised to hear from you. Last time we spoke you seemed adamant you were leaving.”

 

“There’s been a change of plans.” He gets straight to the point. “The reason I’m here is cos I was hoping to get my training job back?” He hates grovelling, but he can’t survive without a job, even a total shit one.

 

“Jesus, Alec, you’re a rubbish motivator and we both know it. Several officers complained about you, said they weren’t learning anything. You made the police force sound about as exciting as a trip to the dentist!”

 

“I’ll try harder.” He leans forward, “Please. I’m desperate.”

 

She sighs, “I’m still not sure whether I’m doing the right thing, but I haven’t yet managed to find a suitable replacement, so the jobs yours. You start a week from today. No pun intended, but it’s criminal that you’re no longer able to work as a detective, especially given your recent success with Sandbrook. How has your health been following your pacemaker surgery?”

 

“I feel like a new man.” He gets to his feet. “Thanks for the job. Appreciate it.”

 

As he turns to leave, Jenkinson repeats Brian’s earlier question. “How’s Ellie?”

 

He wonders why everyone seems to think he’s the authority on Ellie Miller! Admittedly he can’t help feeling a thrill at the thought of people associating the two of them together.

 

“She’s finding it tough with Joe being out there, worries he might come back to Broadchurch one day, try to see her kids.”

 

“Tell her we’re thinking of her and if there’s anything we can do to help her let us know.”

 

“I will,” He promises.

 


	7. Chapter 7

ELLIE

 

It’s Saturday morning, the one morning a week, Ellie allows the boys to eat their breakfast in front of the telly. Her week’s been a frantic one – working, school, child minder’s, errands. Joe’s stayed put, thank Christ… she doesn’t think she could cope with a repeat of last week. Speaking of last week, she hasn’t seen hide or hair of Hardy for six days now. Several times she’s phoned him but on every call he’s sounded distracted and distance, making her wonder whether he regrets the intimacy they shared. She had thought she’d wanted space, but now that Hardy’s given it to her, she’s discovered that’s not what she wants after all. Enough is enough! Olly’s promised to take the boys swimming at the lido this afternoon so she’s determined to drop by whether Hardy likes it or not.

 

A spoonful of cereal is poised halfway to her mouth when she hears her phone ringing from the vicinity of the kitchen. Racing down the hall she grabs it off the counter. She’s answered the call just as it registers that the name flashing across the screen is Tess Henchard.

 

“Tess, hi.”

 

“Hello, Ellie. Sorry to ring so early on a Saturday.”

 

“Please don’t tell me there’s a problem with Sandbrook?” She has a sudden vision of having to cope with Hardy in the midst of a mental breakdown.

 

“No, the case is fine. It’s Alec I’m calling about.”

 

“Okay. What about him?”

 

“I’m concerned that he hasn’t left Broadchurch yet. We discussed it last week and both agreed that he’d move up here. Then all of a sudden he’s changed his mind.”

 

“And this surprises you? You know what he’s like? I’m sorry Tess I must be missing something cos I’m not quite sure what this has to do with me? Shouldn’t you be speaking to Hardy about this?”

 

“I’ve tried, but he’s ignoring my calls.” The line is silent for so long after that that Ellie thinks they’ve been disconnected. “Tess? Still there?” she asks.

 

“Yes.” There’s another pause before Tess says: “I’m just gonna come right out and ask – is Alec staying in Broadchurch because of you?”

 

“What?”

 

“I know you’re going through a tough time now that your husband’s been acquitted, and I sympathise I really do, but Daisy needs her dad close by.”

 

“I can’t be held responsible for the breakdown of your marriage! Nor do I have any say in whether or not Hardy chooses to stay here.”

 

“You do if you’re the reason he’s not leaving Broadchurch.”

 

Ellie sucks in a breath, “Our relat – friendship is none of your business. Hardy’s not your husband anymore.”

 

“I know that, but he’s my daughter’s father, and always will be. And now with Alec looking into your husband’s past – “

 

“He’s doing what?”

 

“You didn’t know? I should’ve realised he wouldn’t have told you. One of my DS’s informed me he’s been asking around, looking for information on Joe Miller. I thought you might’ve put him up to it?”

 

“I didn’t. This is the first I’ve heard of it.”

 

“Ellie, you know as well as I do that this isn’t going to lead anywhere good. Alec should be moving on, not looking for past skeletons in your husband’s closet.”

 

“I know.”

 

“So you’ll talk to him?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Good. I’m sure neither of us wants a repeat of Sandbrook?”

 

“No.”

 

“All right, thanks. Take care, Ellie.” Tess ends the call.

 

Ellie’s fuming. Not only is she pissed off that Tess walked all over her on that phone call, but she’s pissed off at herself for allowing Tess to do so. No wonder Tess made DI, while Ellie was passed over for promotion. She’s also sick to death of Hardy keeping secrets from her, and her always having to find out about them via a third party. Especially when that third party is Tess Henchard! She hates the fact that once again Hardy’s ex-wife knows more about his life than she does – and they’re not married anymore or even living in the same town. She’s going to give Hardy a right bollocking!

 

* * *

 

“You’re looking into Joe’s past?” As soon as he’s opened the door to the cottage she barges past him into the house and turns to confront him.

 

“How did you find out about that?”

 

“Tess phoned, and took great pleasure in telling me I might add.”

 

“Christ! When did CID become such a hotbed of nosey, gossipy, nothing-better-to-do, arseholes?” he complains. “Doesn’t anybody value the concepts of discretion and confidentiality in the workplace anymore?”

 

“What the hell are you thinking, Hardy?” She folds her arms across her chest. “Please tell me you’re not gonna get all obsessive like you did with Sandbrook!”

 

Hardy ignores her, “Come with me. I found something.”

 

He’s already walking away so she has no choice but to follow. In the sitting room he plucks a plain manila folder from the coffee table. The fact that he’s started a folder is not a good sign.

 

“Miller, how much do you know about your husband’s background, before he came to Broadchurch? Does he have any family?”

 

Pulling the strap of her handbag over her head, she drops her bag onto the sofa. “No, he was an only child, and both his parent’s died before I met him.”

 

“I’ve tracked down his mother. She’s alive and well, living in Cardiff.” He flips the file open, does a bit of shuffling, and then hands her a page.

 

“What?” She stares at the vital statistics. “Are you sure?”

 

Name: Margaret Susan Miller (nee Banks).

Husband: Michael Robert Miller (15/03/1929 – 09/10/2002).

Children: One. Joseph Michael Miller (Born: 01/02/1975).

Date of Birth: 22/08/1930.

Age: 83.

Birthplace: Clapham Common, London.

Current Residence: Ely, Cardiff.

 

Her eyes fall to the attached passport type photo. Margaret Miller has the same eyes as Joe. Eighty-three means she must have been forty-five when she had Joe. Tom and Fred have a living Grandmother! Ellie’s not sure how she feels about that. Once again Joe’s lied to her. She shouldn’t be surprised, he’s lied to her about everything else, but she’s still thrown by the news that his mother is alive. She’s still naively likes to think that some aspects of her marriage to Joe were real.

 

“We need to go there next weekend.”

 

“Huh!’ Ellie’s almost forgotten Hardy is there, and it takes a moment for his words to sink in. “Go where?”

 

“Haven’t you been listening? Cardiff! I want to talk to the woman. I want to know why Joe lied to you about his mother being dead. What’s he hiding?”

 

“Have you ever considered that maybe he just didn’t get on with his mother, and didn’t want to tell me in case I tried to talk him into making peace with her?”

 

Hardy’s face deflates a little, and Ellie feels a sense of triumphant that she’s finally got one over on him. Naturally it doesn’t last long!

 

“No, no,” Hardy’s shaking his head. “It’s too weak of an explanation. There’s answer’s in Cardiff I’m certain of it. Joe’s mother is the key, Miller.”

 

“I can’t leave town for the weekend. If Joe gets wind of the fact I’m gone, he might come back.”

 

“How would he find out?”

 

She tries a different tack. “Lucy’s in rehab remember, so there’s no one to leave Tom and Fred with? I’m not dragging my children to Cardiff.”

 

“Leave them with… with Oliver. He’s their cousin, and it’s only for a couple of nights.”

 

“Are you serious? Tom maybe, but definitely not Fred. Not for that length of time.”

 

“The Latimer’s then?”

 

“No, I can’t ask them, and I don’t want to go to Cardiff anyway. I have responsibilities here, Hardy – “

 

“You have a responsibility to keep your children safe – “

 

“No, no, don’t you dare try and make me feel guilty. You can’t expect me to just drop everything to go with you on some wild goose chase.”

 

“What are you afraid of, Miller?”

 

“Nothing! I can’t talk to you when you’ll like this. I’m going home.” Grabbing her bag off the sofa she slings it crossways over her shoulder. On the way out of the room, she gestures a hand in his direction, “Don’t you follow me!”

 

Storming out of the house, she makes sure to bang the door on her way out, just in case he hasn’t picked up on just how furious she is at him. Walking to her car she rummages through her handbag for the keys

 

“Oh bloody, hell, where are they?” Shaking her bag, she listens for a familiar jingle but hears nothing. She slaps the pockets of her coat – still nothing. Letting out a growl of frustration she empties the contents of her bag onto the car bonnet. They’re definitely not there! She throws everything back in her bag, just managing to stop a tube of lipstick from rolling onto the ground. She groans, knowing she’s going to have to go back inside and face Hardy. Covering her face with her hands, she rests her forehead against the car window to gather her wits; the cool glass soothing her heated skin. 

 

Pushing away from the car, she trudges back down the garden path. Her mouth flies open as she spots Hardy standing in the doorway, holding up her keys. “Oh you’ve got to be kidding me,” she fumes.

 

Stalking up to the house she snatches the keys out of his hand. “You could’ve brought them out to me?”

 

Hardy knits his eyebrows together, “You said not to follow you.”

 

“Did anyone ever tell you that you take things too literally!” she snaps, walking out again.

 

“Wanker,” she mutters under her breath as she inserts the key in the car door.

 

 


	8. Chapter 8

ELLIE

 

Fred’s being extra fidgety at the dinner table, refusing to eat his vegetables, mushy peas which he normally loves. After her disastrous phone call with Tess Henchard, and the subsequent argument with Hardy, her son’s behaviour is really playing on Ellie’s last nerve. She’s resorted to spoon-feeding him, but every time she gets the spoon anywhere near his mouth, he twists his head away, waving her off with his hands.

 

“No, no,” he cries, his hand accidentally connecting with the spoon causing a blob of bright green to land on her clean white shirt.

 

“Fred!” she screams, and before she can stop herself she returns the favour, dipping the spoon in the vegetable puree and flicking the contents at him. Pea mixture hits him squarely on the cheek. Fred stares at her with equal measures of stunned and betrayed, before opening his mouth and wailing.

 

Standing at the sink, Tom gapes at her. “Are you okay, Mum?” he asks uncertainly.

 

She feels like the worst mother alive. Bursting into tears she runs out of the room. Upstairs she slams the door to her bedroom and throws herself down on her bed, hiding her head under the pillow to block out the sound of Fred crying.

 

Five minutes later, Tom’s knocking on her door. “Mum, I’ve put a DVD on for Fred, and cleaned up the kitchen. Should I call someone – Mrs. Latimer… or Hardy?”

 

That gets her attention! Sitting up, she reaches for the box of tissues on her bedside cabinet, and wipes her tears away, “No, don’t call anyone. I’m fine. Come in.”

 

Perching himself on the end of the bed, Tom regards her anxiously, “What’s happened, Mum?”

 

“Just having a bad day,” she sniffs, blowing her nose on the tissue. “I seem to have a lot of them.” _Great job of reassuring him,_ she berates herself. _Top-notch parenting!_ It suddenly hits her that she’s not feeling this way because of the actions of Tess or Hardy or Fred. She meets Tom’s eyes, “Danny’s been on my mind a lot today.”

 

“Me too.” With his middle finger Tom traces the circular pattern of the duvet cover. He looks up, “Mum, do you think Danny missed having me as a friend in the months before he died?”

 

“I’m sure he did.”

 

“If I’d been a better friend to Danny he might have told me about Dad. But then I think that maybe I wouldn’t have believed him, that I might have shouted at him, accused him of lying, because I used to think my dad was the greatest.”

 

“I know, sweetheart. Not a day goes by when I don’t wish Danny had confided in me, confided in someone. And I’m certain Danny’s parents and Chloe and countless others in the community wish the same thing. I know it’s hard, and I still struggle with it myself, but we can’t change what happened so there’s no point in feeling guilty. Place the blame squarely where it belongs – with your dad.”

 

“Danny must’ve been so relieved when we went to Florida for three weeks. Probably was hoping our plane would crash!”

 

Ellie’s imagined similar scenario’s countless times since the day Hardy broke the awful news to her that Joe killed Danny. Not the plane crash because she would never in a million years wish her children dead, but she has fantasies of Joe breaking his neck on one of the rides at Disneyworld, getting stabbed for his bum bag in a mugging gone wrong, being attacked by an alligator on their boat ride through the Everglades, or even something as simple as slipping in the hotel bathroom shower and smashing his head open.

 

“It’s not fair! Dad should be in prison. I love him, and he was a good Dad, but he shouldn’t have… hurt Danny.”

 

She’s not sure why she tells him what she does next, but the words are out of her mouth before she’s thought about it. “Hardy’s been looking into your dad’s past.”

 

“Does he think Dad might’ve hurt someone else before Danny?”

 

Ellie’s a little thrown by Tom’s perceptiveness and her surprise must be written all over her face because Tom gives her an insulted look. “Mum, I’m twelve*,” he moans. “I’m not stupid. I’ve read everything online written about Dad since he was arrested, and several journalists, including Olly, have reported that maybe Dad’s done this before.”

 

“Hardy’s taking a trip to Wales to look in to it, and he wants me to go with him, but I don’t want to leave you and your brother. Lucy’s not here to look after you anyway.”

 

“We could stay with Mark and Mrs. Latimer?”

 

“No, I couldn’t ask them.”

 

“Why not? They would do it, especially if it helps Danny… “

 

“You wouldn’t mind me being away for two or three nights?”

 

“You mean because Dad could come back?”

 

Ellie hesitates before nodding.

 

“Mark will protect us. And Nige is around there a lot.” He grins at her. “And on the bright side, Mrs. Latimer probably won’t throw vegetables at Fred.”

 

Laughing, Ellie climbs to her feet, “I’d better go downstairs and give the little guy a hug.”

 

At the door she turns around, “You’re becoming so grownup, Tom. I’m proud of you.”

 

“You will call the Latimers, won’t you?”

 

“I’ll talk to Beth tonight.”

 

* * *

 

ALEC

 

Friday afternoon sees Alec being shown into the Latimer’s sitting room, by Beth. The three Miller’s are already there, along with Chloe. Fred’s the first to spot him, wobbling over on his little legs, demanding to be picked up. The toddler lets out a laugh of delight when Alec swings him up into his arms.

 

“Aw… Fred’s been missing his Uncle Alec all week,” Miller says. “He’s not gonna be happy when we both leave.” Her gaze lands on the black duffel bag slung crossways over his shoulder. “Is that all you’re taking? Doesn’t look like there’s even enough room for one suit in there?”

 

“We should get going,” he says, by way of reply. “Long drive to Cardiff.”

 

Nodding, Miller turns to Beth. “Are you sure this is okay? Two extra kids is a lot to handle when you have your own baby to take care of? Tom’ll be no problem, but Fred can be a bit of handful. He’s going through a hiding stage at the moment, found him in the washing basket, yesterday, burrowed under the dirty clothes.” In Alec’s arms, Fred lets out a squeal as if to say that ‘yes’ he did do that.

 

“We’ll be fine,” Beth reassures. “Chloe and Mark will help. Do what you need to do, Ell.”

 

Miller steps up to Alec, holding out her arms for Fred. “What about Mummy? Where’s my goodbye cuddle?”

 

Alec tries to hand off the little boy to his mother, but Fred continues to cling to his shirt with one hand while reaching for Miller with the other. He’s not sure how it happens but a moment later he’s stuck in a rather uncomfortable, too-public, three-way hug, with Miller pressed along his left side. It’s too close for comfort, reminds him too much of the last time he held her in his arms. He tries to move but if anything Fred tightens his grip.

 

“Gosh, this is awkward,” Miller whispers, her warm breath tantalizingly close to his ear.

 

Over Miller’s head he observes Beth and Chloe desperately trying to hold in their laughter. Even Tom gives a tiny smile.

 

Working together they finally manage to extract the toddler, who starts to grizzle. “I think someone’s a bit sleepy?” Miller says, planting several kisses on Fred’s face before passing him to Beth. “Bye, bye, darling. Be a good boy for Beth.” She pulls a piece of paper out of her coat pocket, “Oh, I made a list of stuff. Mainly about Fred – “

 

Tom approaches Alec, his fingers a blur as they race across the touch screen of his phone. “What’s your number?”

 

“Sorry.”

 

Tom lets out a huff of frustration, “Mobile number. I want to add it to my contacts. I might have some questions for you about the case.”

 

“The case?”

 

He sighs again, “Dad’s case of course.” He leans closer, lowering his voice. “Mum’s promised to keep me updated, but I’m not sure if she means it.”

 

Alec nods understandably. His expression morphs into a frown. “You’ll not gonna send me chain letters, or YouTube videos of kittens doing cute things, are you?”

 

By Tom’s expression he has no clue what a chain letter is. “You don’t know much about young people, do you?”

 

Shrugging, Alec rattles off his number, watching as Tom programmes it into his phone. “Shouldn’t you be in school?”

 

“Mum picked me up at lunchtime so I could be here when she leaves.”

 

Miller overhears the last part. “Oi, our agreement was that if I allowed you to leave school at lunchtime you would get your homework out of the way first.”

 

“I will,” Tom promises. “As soon as you’ve left.”

 

Crossing the room, Miller kisses her eldest sons cheek, “Make sure you help out with Fred?”

 

“Don’t forget your promise. We’re in this together.”

 

Eyes welling with tears, Miller wraps her arms around Tom. “I promise. Love you,” To Alec it sounds like she adds that she loves her son more than chocolate, which amuses him because he’s seen how much she loves chocolate.

 

Once they’re on the road they travel in silence for a while. “All right?” he asks, finally breaking the tension.

 

“Not really. Still, not sure whether this trip is a good idea.”

 

“If we find some new evidence against Joe then it will be worth it. Get justice for Danny Latimer. Send Joe back to the nick where he belongs – “ 

 

“Something that means the man I was married to for twelve years is even more of a monster than he already is, you mean. Excuse me, if I’m not jumping for joy.”

 

Alec sighs, “Joe’s character is no reflection on you so stop harping on about it all the time!”

 

“Harping on – “

 

“You’re a good person.”

 

“You do realise you just insulted me and then followed it up with a compliment,” she snaps.

 

            

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * I made Tom twelve years-old. In series 2, Ellie mentioned he was thirteen, but I never understood how he aged so much, given that the length of time between series 1 and 2 was less than Beth’s pregnancy? I guess it was to cover the fact that Adam Wilson looked older.


	9. Chapter 9

ELLIE

 

They reach the outskirts of Cardiff just after five o’clock, which is unfortunate timing because every man and his dog are on their way home from work. On their way to the hotel they stop off at Sainsbury’s to buy something for dinner. Ellie complains when upon entering the supermarket Hardy immediately drags her to the Produce section, and then proceeds to select two ready-made Greek salads. Not having eaten all day, she’s starving, and in her opinion salad just doesn’t cut it when you’re hungry, or any other time really. At the check-out she sneaks a Twix onto the conveyor belt, daring him to say something, but he doesn’t.

 

“Hope they haven’t lost our booking this time?” Ellie says, as they enter the hotel lobby. She smirks at him. “Wouldn’t want you to be forced to sleep in your suit again?”

 

He grunts an unintelligible reply.

 

Five minutes later they’re stepping out of the lift on the third floor, carrying two keycards.

 

Outside the door to their first room she asks: “Do you want to put your bag in your room and then eat dinner in mine?”

 

He hands her the plastic Sainsbury’s bag, “Yeah. Otherwise you might throw your salad away and just eat the chocolate bar.”

 

She lets out a snort, but doesn’t contradict him.

 

Entering her room, she dumps her bag at the foot of the double bed. The room is reasonably sized, with a lovely view of the nearby park and river. She’s pleased to see that there’s a kettle and tea bags atop a chest of drawers next to the TV. Crossing the room, she places the bag of food on the small table situated under the window.

 

Five minutes later Hardy’s knocking on her door. When she opens it he holds up two bottles of Evian, “Vending machine down the hall.”

 

“You should’ve brought those at Sainsbury’s,” she says. “They must’ve cost a fortune.”

 

“Did I ask you to pay for them?”

 

She unpacks the salads, placing one at each end of the table. “We could’ve bought a cheap bottle of wine instead.”

 

“Would you stop going on about the bloody water,” he says, sinking down into the chair closest to the bed. Pulling back the lid on his salad, he rips open the sachet, adding dill and lemon dressing to his salad.

 

They eat in companionable silence for a while – well at least Hardy eats. Ellie spends most of her time poking at her salad.

 

Unscrewing the top on his water, Hardy takes a large gulp. Mesmerised, she watches the muscles of his throat work as he swallows, thinking the water was a good idea after all. Feeling her face heat, she shoves a large piece of lettuce into her mouth to cover the fact.

 

“Erm,” Hardy wipes a hand across his mouth. “I ran into Becca Fisher this morning in the High Street, and I asked her to let Paul know that we were heading out of town for a couple of days, just in case he needs to… erm… contact us regarding Joe.”

 

She stabs a piece of tomato, “Oh! Did the two of you have a nice chat?”

 

Hardy lets out a groan, “Not this again. You’re barking up the wrong tree, Miller. Trust me, Becca’s not interested.”

 

“How do you know?” she asks, her curiosity piqued. “She was falling all over you at the Latimer’s barbecue.”

 

“Eat your food,” he grunts, waving a hand at her almost untouched salad.

 

His evasiveness has her even more intrigued. “Tell me!”

 

Hardy doesn’t answer for so long that she wonders if he’s going to. “I once propositioned Becca Fisher for sex,” he says, expelling the words in a whoosh of air.

 

She drops her fork, the plastic clattering against the wood, “What? When?”

 

“The night SOCO Brian asked you out. And before you ask she turned me down flat. Said it was cos of my bad heart but I’m not sure I believe her.”

 

“She knew about your heart arrhythmia?” The wheels are slowly turning in her head. “Hang on a minute, the morning after you came to dinner at my house you had a cut on the back of your head; said you slipped in the shower”

 

“That wasn’t true. I collapsed in my hotel room, Becca found me, went with me in the ambulance, told them she was my wife.”

 

“Why Becca? I mean I know why... cos she’s beautiful... but why – “

 

“Erm, I was lonely. Danny’s murder remained unsolved, I had Claire to deal with, and Sandbrook hanging over my head, and... erm... I was envious of Joe.”

 

There’s a loud roaring in her ears, making her wonder if she heard him correctly. “Why?” she chokes out.

 

“Cos Joe had a loyal wife. A wife who’d never cheat on him.” Suddenly he’s on his feet, intent on clearing the table. Trying his best to avoid looking at her directly, he points to her salad, “Finished?”

 

She nods absently. Picking up the rubbish he heads for the bin, but not before she sees the embarrassment and humiliation written all over his face at having unintentionally revealed so much to her.

 

Ellie’s still struggling to process what he said, but she can’t help feeling warmed by his words. A part of her knows she shouldn’t feel this way, that she was a married woman at the time, but she has no loyalty to Joe now. And it’s not as if Hardy wanted to have an affair with her back then, but he was jealous of Joe because he had her, and that means something to Ellie. Whether he intended to or not, he’s also brought up something else that’s been on her mind for a while now.

 

Leaving the table, she walks over to join him, carefully considering her next words. “Hardy,” she says gently. “Did Tess cheat on you? Was Claire actually telling the truth for once when she said –" Ellie’s face feels like it’s on fire. “Um... well you were there... you know what she said without me having to repeat it. But... how did Claire know?” She waits for his answer with bated breath. _Please don’t let him have confided in Claire._

 

“The night Claire stole the pendant from my car...”

 

“That was your car? But the Echo article that came out after Joe was arrested said that it wasn’t you who’d had an affair as was originally reported, but two unnamed detective sergeants.” Her eyes widen in shock. “Oh god, one of the DS’s was Tess wasn’t it? She was driving your car that night?”

 

“Yes. Tess was transporting the pendant back to evidence.”

 

“You took the blame.”

 

“For Daisy. The fall-out would have been horrendous for both Daisy and Tess and I didn’t want Daisy knowing that about her mother. Even after what she did Tess was still my wife and I still loved her. I wasn’t the best husband towards the end, obsessed with work, never home, and when I was I wasn’t really there. In a lot of ways I drove Tess towards Dave.”

 

Ellie’s shaking her head. “But it’s okay for Daisy to believe you had an affair?”

 

“Olly’s story cleared that up...”

 

 “I know...” She swallows the painful lump in her throat. Her heart is breaking for him; she can’t believe he’s had to deal with so much alone. “But... what about before that? Look what it did to your health? Tess should never have let you take the blame for her. What kind of wife is she?”

 

“I didn’t give her much choice. I was doing it no matter what she said.”

 

It strikes her how very different Hardy is from Joe. Hardy sacrificed his own personal and professional reputation to protect his wife and daughter, his cheating wife at that, whereas Joe’s only ever been out for himself. He sat up there in court quietly watching as his wife and son were decimated on the stand. Joe said and did nothing when she was falsely accused of having an affair or when Tom lied to protect him. He could’ve changed his plea at any time, or taken the stand, but he did neither.

 

She steps closer, looking him right in the eye. “What you did for your wife and daughter is one of the most selfless things I’ve ever heard. You’re an amazing man, Alec Hardy.”

 

The full on smile he grants her steals every bit of breath from her body.

 

“And I also think you should smile more.”

 

“Should I?”

 

“Yes.” Before she’s even aware of it she’s reaching out to stroke a thumb across the corner of his mouth, before laying her hand to rest against his bristly cheek. Hardy stills, his breathing increasing. It’s the first time she’s initiated touching him with any real affection, and the thought sends a shiver down her spine.

 

The way he’s looking at her; his expression a combination of want and desire, gives her confidence. Standing on her tiptoes she brushes her tongue gently across his lips. Hardy still doesn’t move, but he does part his lips to allow her better access. Becoming bolder, Ellie presses her mouth to his, and starts to kiss him.

 

Hardy responds by sliding his arms around her, his fingers tracing small circles on her back. They both moan when his tongue touches hers. Moving her hands to his hair she buries her fingers in its softness. Deepening the kiss, Hardy groans into her mouth, his tongue darting, caressing, and stroking her tongue and cheeks. The feeling of his stubble rubbing against her sensitive skin sends a shock wave of pleasure throughout her entire body.

 

Pulling her tighter against him Hardy growls low in his throat and starts sucking on her tongue. She can feel the heat of his body course down the entire length of hers; feel the hard press of his erection against her stomach.

 

Out of the blue it hits her that this is the first time she’s had sex since the awful one night stand last month. It’s the equivalent of having cold water thrown over her and suddenly she’s flooded with doubt, scared of going down this road, because once they do there’s no going back. What if sex with Hardy is as awkward as her last experience? Come morning, will Hardy be disappointed? Maybe she’s bad in bed and just doesn’t know it? Joe never complained, but he wouldn’t, would he? Keeping her happy and satisfied was the perfect cover for hiding his true nature. Before Joe she only slept with one man, and she remembers the sex being okay, but she was inexperienced so maybe that’s all that was? Deep down she knows her relationship with Hardy is nothing like picking up a virtual stranger for sex, that when Hardy touches her she melts, but she just can’t shake the feeling and suddenly she’s pushing him away.  

 

He must have felt her tense up, because he’s already pulling back. “What’s wrong?” he says, studying her with concern.

 

Turning away from him she walks to the door, holding it open for him to leave, “Um, goodnight.” She keeps her eyes averted, unable to look at him.

 

Hardy blinks, a line denting his forehead, “Huh!”

 

“We have an early start in the morning.”

 

“Miller, what – “

 

“Please.”

 

He heaves a sigh, “Fine. See you at breakfast.” Brushing past her on his way out, he stalks down the hall, without looking back.

 

Shutting the door behind him, she collapses against it. Sliding to the floor she hugs her knees against her chest. She’s ashamed of herself for hurting Hardy, asking him to leave, behaving like a bitch.

 

Has she just ruined everything?


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for all the kudos' and comments on the last few chapters. :-) :-)
> 
> ~Lisa.

Warning for this Chapter: Mention of teen suicide.

 

ALEC

 

A bleary-eyed Alec trudges down the stairs to the dining room, having barely slept a wink the night before. Every time he’d nearly dropped off thoughts of Ellie Miller touching his face, kissing his lips, invaded his thoughts. His thoughts have never felt so agonisingly good, or hurt so much.

 

It’s been a long time since he’s kissed a woman, not since Tess, and he can’t even recall when they last kissed – not since Sandbrook anyway. His thoughts turn to what transpired last night, following the kiss. He may know nothing about women, but he knows that being thrown out of the room is not what you want to happen when you’ve just shared a kiss. Does she regret kissing him?

 

Miller’s already there, seated at a table, nibbling on a piece of toast, and flicking through a magazine. His heart gives a jolt when he sees her. _Bloody hell he’s no better than some pathetic schoolboy,_ he grimaces _._ At the serve-yourself breakfast bar he shakes cereal into a bowl, and adds milk. He debates over coffee, and then thinks to hell with it; if his pacemaker’s still working given all the stress that’s going on in his life at present then he’s probably fine. Miller’s head remains buried in her magazine as he approaches. _Two can play at that game_ , he thinks, and swipes a newspaper from the pile of magazines on his way past.

 

Miller briefly meets his eyes. “Morning,” she says. Her voice sounds scratchy, and there are dark circles beneath her eyes. It’s obvious she’s slept as badly as he has. He has no idea whether that’s a good sign or not!

 

He grunts a reply. She studies him for a moment longer before returning to her magazine. He takes a large mouthful of coffee and promptly burns his tongue. “Shit!” he curses under his breath. Unfolding the newspaper, he feigns interest in an article when in fact the words are blurring before his eyes.

 

“Wasn’t aware you could read without your glasses,” she says, at the exact moment he realises he’s not wearing them.

 

Giving up on the pretence of reading, he pushes the paper aside, and focuses on eating his cereal.

 

They finish their breakfast in silence. There are things Alec wants to ask her but he can’t quite get up the nerve. He starts to reconsider his cowardice, especially when she pushes her chair back, preparing to leave. He opens his mouth to say something, but she beats him to it. “We leave for Joe’s mother’s house in ten minutes,” she says.

 

He stands as well. “Are you all right to drive? You look tired.”

 

“You’re the one who dragged me on this trip. Who else do you think is gonna drive – you? I’m fine,” she says in a tone that indicates she’s anything but. “Don’t be nice to me. I don’t deserve it.” She makes to leave.

 

He moves in front of her before she’s even taken a couple of steps. “Miller, we need to talk about last night.”

 

Miller shakes her head, “I know, but not now, okay.”

 

He sighs, “When?” He hates how desperate he sounds.

 

“Soon. See you at the car.”

 

* * *

 

The street Margaret Miller lives on is a far cry from Broadchurch, Alec thinks, as they drive past a boarded-up newsagent with a gang of bored, rough-looking teenagers smoking out front. Row after row of bleak council houses line the streets. Most have broken fences, overgrown gardens, and piles of discarded rubbish out front. Fences still standing have ‘Beware of the Dog’ signs on them to keep people out.

 

By comparison, when they park outside Joe’s mothers, her house and the couple either side are reasonably tidy, free of rubbish, with recently-mowed grass.

 

Paint is peeling off the door when Alec knocks. As soon as it opens, he gets straight to the point. “Margaret Miller. South Mercier Po – “

 

With a roll of her eyes, Miller cuts him off mid-sentence. “Hi,” she says, smiling, and holding out her hand. “I’m Ellie. Until recently I was married to your son Joe.”

 

Mrs. Miller smiles, “Joe was here yesterday.”

 

Alec’s eyes widen. Beside him, Miller gasps.”

 

“He got ten out of ten on his spelling test,” Mrs. Miller says proudly. “He’s such a good boy.”

 

“Oh, thank god,” Miller breathes.

 

“May we come in?” Alec asks.

 

“Yes, of course.” She goggles at Alec, when he steps into the hall. “My, you’re a tall one aren’t you? Handsome as well, but you need to smile more, dear.”

 

“I just told him that yesterday,” Miller says. Mentions of last night have Alec turning to look at her, trying to gauge her reaction, but she’s looking anywhere but at him.

 

“I don’t remember you telling me I was handsome,” he says playfully, still determined to catch her eye. After the shock she’s just received, thinking Joe’s in Cardiff, he’s hoping to get a smile out of her. He’s also feeling guilty since he was the one who insisted they visit Joe’s mother.”

 

It works. Not only does she smile, but she laughs as well. It’s just about the loveliest sound Alec has ever heard.

 

“Aren’t you two sweet,” Mrs. Miller claps her hands together. “So in love.”

 

Her words nearly cause Alec to collide with the hall table.

 

The sitting room smells damp and musty. An abundance of furniture is crammed into the small space, ornaments, nick-knacks and doilies lining every surface. One wall is taken up by a large fireplace, which by the amount of dust on it looks like it hasn’t been used in years. For privacy, the heavy curtains on the window facing the street are pulled tightly shut.

 

Mrs. Miller flicks on the light. “I’ll make a cuppa. Then I have to get started on tea. Michael will be home from work soon.”

 

Once she’s left the room, Alec scrubs a hand down his face. “Shit, we’re not gonna get anything concrete out of her. Her husband’s been dead twelve years, he retired about thirty years before that, and he wouldn’t be at work today cos it’s Saturday and even if he was he wouldn’t be due home soon cos it’s not even lunchtime.” He speaks in a rush but Miller seems to have no trouble keeping up.

 

She wanders over to the framed photos on the mantelpiece. “I recognise most of these; Joe’s parent’s wedding day, Joe as a baby, Joe in his school uniform. They’re all in a photo album at home.” Picking up the picture second from the end, she studies it closely. “Look at this… ” 

 

He hurries to her side. Whipping his glasses out of his jacket pocket, he slides them on, peering over Miller’s shoulder. “This one’s new to me,” she says, wiping at the thick layer of dust almost obliterating the photograph. It’s a snapshot of two smiling teenage boys (one approximately 12-13, the other 15-18?) complete with fishing rods, proudly holding up a rather substantial Mackerel between them. If Alec was to hazard a guess at when the picture was taken he would say circa late 1980’s judging by the clothes and hairstyles.

 

Miller points to the boy on the left, the older of the two, “That’s Joe. I have no idea who the other boy is. Joe definitely didn’t have a brother, right?”

 

“If he did, there’s no record of it that I can find. Has to be a relative though, right? You wouldn’t have a photo of your son and his friend in a prime position in your front room, would you?”

 

“You might if the two families were close. There’s a photo of Tom and Danny on the bookcase in my sitting room… But my circumstances were hardly normal, were they?”

 

He takes the photo frame from her, his fingernails working on the rusty hooks trying to pry the back off.

 

“What are you doing?” Miller’s eyes dart anxiously in the direction of the kitchen. They can hear tea cups clinking and the sound of the kettle boiling.

 

“Shoosh, she’ll be ages yet. I want to see if there’s anything written on the back of the photo.”

 

Sliding the photo free, he turns it over:

 

_‘Joe and Tom, ‘91, Pembrokeshire.’_

“Joe would’ve been sixteen,” Alec notes.

 

Miller sways on her feet, “Oh my god, his name’s Tom.”

 

“Who chose the name Tom? Was it Joe?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Did he ever mention having a friend named Tom?”

 

Miller shakes her head. “No. He just said he’d always liked the name.” The sound of footsteps in the hall has them both on alert. He fumbles with the frame but struggles to get it back on.

 

“Here, give it to me,” Miller hisses, grabbing at the picture, her nimble fingers making quick work of the task.

 

She’s just placing it on back on the mantelpiece when Mrs. Miller walks into the room carrying a tray laden with tea things. Miller rushes to help her, taking the tray and setting it down on the coffee table.

 

“Thank you dear. What’s your name again?”

 

“Ellie.”

 

“Ah… yes, pretty name.” Her eyes rest on Alec. “Who’s he?”

 

“His name’s Alec.”

 

“Is he your husband?”

 

Miller’s mouth quips. “No, I was married to your son Joe, remember?”

 

“Course I do. How is Joe?”

 

“This is a waste of time,” Alec whispers close to her ear.

 

Purposely ignoring him, Miller concentrates on pouring the tea. Alec notices two out of three of the tea cups have chips in the rim. Adding milk, Miller hands one of the chipped ones to him, speaking low. “Sit down. Drink your tea. We can’t just leave.”

 

 _Why not!_ Alec wonders, but he obediently takes a seat. Handing tea to Joe’s mother, Miller joins him on the sofa. There’s a plate of chocolate biscuits, but they must be past their expiration date because the chocolate is turning whitish in places. Even Miller is leaving them alone so they must be bad!

 

She leans forward, “Mrs. Miller,” she asks gently. “Is someone looking after you?”

 

“Martha,” Mrs. Miller takes a sip of coffee. “She lives next door.”

 

“When did you last see her?” Miller prompts.

 

The elderly lady shakes her head, “I’m not sure.”

 

Alec nudges Miller’s side, “Show her the photo. Go on.”

 

Getting to her feet, Miller heads to the fireplace. Retrieving the photo she stands next to Joe’s mother’s chair, and points to the photograph, “I was curious to know who this boy is?”

 

“That’s my husband’s brother’s boy, Tom.”

 

Miller almost drops the photo, “Husbands brother.” She looks over at Alec. He’s connected the dots as well. “Joe’s cousin. That means he’s Tom Miller as well… oh god!”

 

“Keep it together, Miller.”

 

Joe’s mother stares at Miller. “Is your name Miller as well dear. Are you related to Tom?”

 

“Where does Tom live?” Miller asks gently.

 

“I don’t remember.” Mrs. Miller’s hands are shaking.

 

Miller clasps the elderly woman’s hand. “It’s okay, don’t let it worry you.”

 

They leave soon after. Miller fusses over the stranger; who until recently was her mother-in-law, pouring her another cup of tea, putting a blanket across her lap, as well as turning the telly on. She also insists on knocking next door to make sure there really is a Martha. Thankfully there is, and after confirming that she does indeed check up on Margaret Miller regularly Miller allows them to leave, but she doesn’t look happy.

 

Once they’re on the road, Hardy says: “She’s not your responsibility, Miller.”

 

“She’s my children’s Grandmother.”

 

“No, she’s a complete stranger.”

 

“That’s cold, Hardy.”

 

 “You think the same thing, admit it!” When she doesn’t answer, he starts to worry over what’s going through her head. “Please don’t tell me you’re thinking of doing something stupid like introducing her to Tom and Fred? What’s that gonna achieve? That woman in there’s not gonna remember them five minutes later. It’s up to Joe to make arrangements for his own mother.”

 

“I know. It’s just sad that’s all. She’s just a helpless old lady, whose own son abandoned her.” Suddenly, she sits up straight, clutching at the wheel. “Oh god, what if Margaret Miller’s in contact with Joe? She could tell him we’ve been to visit.” She glares at him, “Didn’t think of that, did you?”

 

“Relax, Miller. I’m sure she forgot our names the moment we left the room.”

 

“Christ, you’d better be right. Where to now?”

 

“Erm, stop for lunch. I want to give South Mercier CID a call, get them to track down a current address for Joe’s cousin, Tom Miller.” It doesn’t sit well with him that Joe named his son after his cousin. It probably means nothing but it makes Alec uneasy.

 

“Good. I want to give Beth a call. Check on Tom and Fred.”

 

* * *

 

Being Saturday, and a mild, sunny day, the park near their hotel is both crowded and noisy. It seems to Alec as if hundreds of kids are racing around excitedly, families fly kites on the grass, or play Frisbee or soccer, push chairs rattle along various paths, dogs bark. It’s all giving Alec a headache, which he felt the beginnings of in the musty closed in space that was Margaret Miller’s sitting room. Luckily they manage to find an unoccupied bench in a quiet section of the park, overlooking the river.

 

Miller’s eating chips from paper fashioned into the shape of a cone. She holds it out to him, “Sure you don’t want one?”

 

He shakes his head, pitying her clogged arteries. His tuna salad sandwich sits on his lap untouched. Looking down at his mobile on the bench near his thigh he wills it to ring. A detective sergeant he used to work with, DS Anderson; has promised to phone him back as soon as he has the relevant information on Tom Miller.

 

He stares transfixed as Miller slides a chip smothered in tomato sauce into her mouth, and then proceeds to lick the sauce from her fingers. Bloody hell, everything she does lately is arousing him sexually. He’s starting to wonder whether she’s doing these things on purpose.

 

“Do you have to do that?” he grumbles, when she starts working on another chip, the words coming out sharper than he intended.

 

She blinks at him, “What? Eat my lunch?”

 

“Forget it.” He rubs at his temple; his headaches definitely getting worse. “Miller, we can’t go on like this.”

 

Miller waves a chip at him. “You’re angry at me, cos you think that just cos I kissed you means you’re automatically entitled to a shag.”

 

“Bollocks! I’m not angry, just bloody frustrated.” His gaze is completely focused on her face, his eyes dark and intense. “Do you have any idea how much you tempt me?”

 

“Yes.” Looking away from him she stares out at the water. “It’s just it’s all happening so fast.”

 

“Is it?” For him it’s been brewing for so long that he’s unable to pinpoint when it started. “Are you sure about that?”

 

“I just need some more time.”

 

“All right.”

 

Turning away from the view of the river, Ellie looks him straight-on. “It meant a lot to me that you opened up last night. I want you to know that.”

 

He feels his jaw tightening. “It astounds me that you expect me to confide in you yet you keep refusing to talk to me!”

 

“I don’t – “

 

Beside him, his mobile trills, effectively cutting off whatever excuse she plans on throwing at him next. Answering it, he puts it to his ear, “What.”

 

“I found Thomas Miller?” says DS Anderson.

 

“Where?”

 

“He’s deceased. Died in 1991, aged thirteen.”

 

 _Same year the picture with Joe was taken_ , Alec thinks.

 

“Cause of death?” In his periphery vision he sees Miller’s eyes widen.

 

“Ruled as suicide. The poor kid hanged himself from a tree in the front garden of his house. According to the pathologists report no evidence of foul play was suspected.”

 

“Parent’s still alive?”

 

“The dad is… ” Alec hears the sound of papers being shuffled. “Geoffrey Miller; lives in the nearby village of Newport, just outside of Cardiff. There’s an older sister as well – Rachel – married name Edgecombe, lives in Taunton, no children. And, get this, Geoffrey’s Miller’s wife, Sally, Joe Miller’s aunt, died just over a week ago – lung cancer.”

 

“Right. Email all the info through to me, including the pathologists report.” A thought occurs to him, “Is DI Henchard aware you’re helping me?”

 

“The boss said to give you anything you need.”

 

“All right. Thanks. Well done.” He ends the call.

 

Miller’s staring at him, waiting.

 

There’s no easy way to break the disturbing news to her, so he just comes right out and says it. “Erm, Tom Miller committed suicide in 1991.”

 

“Oh god! That’s awful.” Miller goes back to staring out at the river, deep in thought. A full minute passes, before she turns to look at him, exhaling a slow breath. “Um... that’s probably why Joe chose the name for my Tom, as a tribute to the first Tom’s memory, don’t you think?”

 

“Dunno. It’s possible.” He runs his hands down his face. “Tom’s father, Joe’s uncle lives in Newport. I want to drive up there this afternoon.”

 

“Okay.” She doesn’t move, just continues to stare at him.

 

Alec slices a hand through the air in the direction of her lunch, “Finish your chips. Chop, chop.”

 

Apparently, the grisly news of a young boy taking his own life, or maybe the fact that he’s criticised how she eats her chips, has caused her to lose her appetite, because she gets to her feet, and chucks the remaining chips in the bin. “Let’s go.”

 


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lots of kudos received on the previous chapter. Hugs to all. Hope you enjoy this chapter as much.
> 
> ~Lisa.

ALEC

 

“We’re like the Famous Five,” Miller grins. They’ve driven the twenty three kilometres to Joe’s uncle’s house in uncomfortable silence, and as they’re getting out of the car, Miller’s obviously decided that it’s time to try and lighten the mood. He stares at her in stony silence.

 

She must take his silence as proof that he’s never heard of the popular children’s book series, because she says teasingly, “C’mon, Hardy. Even you must know who the Famous Five are?”

 

He shrugs, starting down the garden path.

 

“George was my favourite,” Miller continues to prattle behind him. “She was fun, and adventurous, and her hair was curly like mine. Lucy always wanted to be Anne. Anne was boring.”

 

He stops in his tracks, turning to face her, almost causing her to walk into him. He raises his eyebrows, “Did you also want to be a boy like George?”

 

She blushes, “No. So you did read the Famous Five when you were growing up. I knew it!”

 

Climbing the two concrete steps to the porch, Alec knocks on the door.

 

Stepping up beside him, Miller says: “Now Hardy, you will be sensitive won’t you? We’re here to ask a father about his thirteen year-old son who committed suicide, and on top of that his wife just died last week.”

 

“Course I will be.”

 

They both start as the door is thrown open. Before Alec can open his mouth to introduce them, the man says: “Been expecting you.”

 

Alec and Miller look at each other in confusion, both thrown by this unexpected development. “Er… Excuse me,” Alec says. “You know who we are?”

 

“Course I do. I watch the news and read the papers same as anyone else.” He focuses on Alec. “You’re DI Alec Hardy, the detective in charge of the case of the young boy Joe was accused of murdering. Glancing briefly at Miller, he adds: “And you’re Joe’s wife.” He holds out a hand to Alec, and the two men shake hands, “Come in, come in.”

 

“Mr. Miller – “ Alec starts to say.

 

“Call me Geoffrey, son.” He addresses Miller. “Make us a cuppa tea, will you love. Kitchen’s through there.”

 

Alec’s jaw drops. Miller’s mouth is a firm line, but she plays along, probably thinking that Joe’s uncle might open up more if she does as he asks.  Shooting him a ‘fill me in later’ look she heads in the direction Geoffrey Miller indicated.

 

Clearing his throat, Alec says: “Erm, Geoffrey, you weren’t surprised to see us. Why is that?”

 

Geoffrey looks at him like he’s just spoken in some strange alien tongue, “Cos of the mistake that was made, of course.”

 

“Mistake?”

 

“Regarding Joe. You’re here to apologise, aren’t you? To tell me in person that you got it wrong. That you now realise Joe could never hurt anyone.”

 

“That’s not why we’re here, Geoffrey. There is no doubt in my mind that Joe Miller killed Danny Latimer. Unfortunately, due to circumstances beyond our control we were unable to prove it in court, but Joe is definitely guilty.”

 

“You’re wrong. I’ve known Joe all his life. He was like a second son to my wife and I.”

 

Realising he’s getting nowhere, Alec changes tact, “When did you last see Joe?”

 

“Thirteen years ago. Out of the blue he announced he was leaving Cardiff. Sally and I were devastated. We saw him nearly every day before that. We hoped he’d change his mind, or come back, but he never did.”

 

_Thirteen years,_ Alec thinks. _When Joe moved to Broadchurch_

 

“And you didn’t hear from Joe after that? He didn’t phone? Did you know he got married?”

 

“No, we never understood why he ceased contact with us. We couldn’t believe we’d lost two sons – first our own boy, then our nephew. Didn’t know Joe married until we read it in the paper, after he was arrested. I wrote to Joe in prison, asked him if he wanted me to drive down and be a character witness for him in court. He never wrote back.”

 

Miller returns to the room. “We saw a photo of your son, Tom, at Joe’s mother’s house,” she says, pouring Geoffrey’s tea and handing it to him. “Were your son and Joe close?”

 

“Yes. They were like brothers rather than cousins. Thick as thieves from the day Tom was born. Tom looked up to Joe. The four of us were one big happy family.”

 

“The four of you being you, Sally, Tom, and Joe?” Miller asks.

 

“That’s right, love.”

 

“But you have a daughter, don’t you, Rachel? Was she also close to Tom and Joe?”

 

“She would often trail around after Tom and Joe, but you know the old saying, three’s a crowd. She just got in the way, really.”

 

“Do you see much of your daughter?”

 

“She has her own life. She was here last week for Sally’s funeral, but before that we hadn’t seen her in a few years.”

 

“I’m sorry about your wife,” Miller says gently.

 

Looking down at his hands, Geoffrey nods.

 

“Do you know what caused your son to take his own life?” Alec asks bluntly, ignoring the glare he receives from Miller.

 

“No idea. He seemed so cheerful and happy, always laughing Tom was.”

 

“He didn’t leave a note?” Alec probes.

 

Geoffrey shakes his head.

 

“How did Joe take your son’s death?”

 

“What kind of question is that? He was devastated of course, same as the rest of us. But he had Sally and me to help him through it.”

 

“Since it’s come out that Joe had an inappropriate relationship with an eleven year-old boy, have you ever wondered about Joe’s relationship with his cousin, your son?”

 

“Of course not!” Geoffrey explodes. “What a sick thing to say! As I’ve told you, I don’t think Joe hurt anyone, including the Dorset boy. Newspaper’s reported that they think the father was responsible.”

 

“Joe’s mother hasn’t seen her son in years, either,” Miller says. Alec notices she’s trying to speak calmly, but can see she’s furious over both Geoffrey’s ignorance of Joe, and his accusations towards Mark Latimer. “What was Joe’s relationship like with his parents?”

 

“A bit strained. That’s one of the reasons why he spent so much time at our house. Margaret’s never been quite all there, if you know what I mean, and she only got worse as she got older. My brother Michael worked a lot, and when he was home he drank pretty heavily?”

 

“Violent?” Alec interjects.

 

“Not to my knowledge.”

 

“Taunton’s more-or-less on our way home, so we plan on stopping off to see your daughter, Rachel,” Miller mentions.

 

Geoffrey doesn’t comment, merely shrugs.

 

“Thanks for your time, Geoffrey.” Alec holds out his hand.

 

As they shake hands, Geoffrey asks, “Do you know where Joe is? I’d love to contact him. He’s the only family I have left, now. I’m sure he’d want to be informed of his aunt’s passing.”

 

Alec glances at Miller. She’s biting her lower lip. “Sorry,” he lies. “We don’t know where Joe is?”

 

Outside, they both stop short, their eyes drawn to the monstrous oak towering over them, its branches twisted and rotting. “God,” Miller shivers. “Do you think that’s the tree Tom hung himself from?”

 

“Probably.”

 

“Eerie,” Miller quickens her pace, more than ready to leave.

 

* * *

 

As they push open the doors to the lobby, Miller says: “Geoffrey doesn’t think much of his daughter, does he? I got the impression she was more of a hindrance than anything, that both Geoffrey and Sally preferred sons to daughters. Not to mention the slips of the tongue, four family members instead of five, and again when he said Joe’s the only family he’s got left. Don’t think Geoffrey thinks much of women in general. I couldn’t believe it when he ordered me to make tea. And did you notice he shook your hand, but not mine, addressed you by name, but I was Joe’s wife. He would’ve definitely known my name if he followed the news footage as much as he says he did.”

 

Alec presses the button for the lift, “He did call you, love, though.”

 

“Yeah, but it was more like _love,_ derogatory, rather than affectionate.”

 

“Maybe… He seemed quite fond of his wife though.”

 

“That’s true. Oh…” she waves a finger at him. “On my way to the kitchen there was a wall of family photos; heaps of one’s of Geoffrey, Sally, Joe, and Tom, but only two of Rachel, and they were both family photos, not individual ones.”

 

“We’ll head off first thing; stop at Rachel Edgecombe’s on the way back.”

 

She nods. They’ve reached the door of Miller’s room, “Um...” she says. “I’m gonna take a shower, have an early night.”

 

“You don’t want to get dinner first?”

 

To his dismay she shakes her head, “No, I’m not hungry, and it’s been a shit day.”

 

“Okay, night.” Long after she’s closed the door to her room he’s still standing there.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is M-rated.

ELLIE

 

“Mum! How many times do I have to tell you – Dad never touched me. I’m sick of people asking me.”

 

“Sorry, sweetheart. I don’t mean to harp on – I just had to check again. It’s been a long and trying day.” It’s barely seven o’clock but Ellie’s already tucked up in bed, mobile to her ear. Shifting into a more comfortable position she winces as her right ankle rubs against the sheet. Earlier, while shaving her legs in the shower, she nicked herself with the razor.

 

As she promised she’s filled Tom in on the events of the day, with the exception of the news that Joe may have abused his cousin. There’s no need for him to know that, especially if it turns out not to be the case. She’s still not sure she should be sharing anything with him – he’s only twelve after all. Is she no better than Joe – treating a child as if he’s on the same maturity level? But Tom’s been through a lot more than the average kid his age and besides there’s been enough secrets in the Miller family to last a lifetime.

 

“It’s kind of creepy, Dad naming me after his cousin that died, don’t you think Mum?” Tom asks.

 

“A little bit. But it’s a pretty common practice. Baby Lizzie’s named after her Gran, don’t forget, and you don’t find that strange do you?”

 

“No. I think it’s cos I don’t understand Dad anymore, so I’m questioning everything now.”

 

Once again she’s blown away by his insightfulness. “Me too,” she says.

 

“Mum, will I ever get to meet Dad’s mum, uncle or cousin?”

 

She’s been dreading this question but she owes him an honest answer. “Er… probably not. His mum’s pretty old, fragile, and confused, and as far as we know she hasn’t had contact with your dad in years, so I think meeting you would probably upset her. As far as his uncle goes, a resounding no, cos he’s certain your dad’s innocent.” _And I wasn’t impressed with the way he treats women,_ Ellie thinks. “I’ll decide about the cousin when I meet her.”

 

Thankfully, Tom seems satisfied with her explanation. “Okay. Mum, Fred’s trying to grab the phone from me. I’ll put him on.”

 

A moment later Fred’s little voice comes down the line, “Mummy, mummy!”

 

“Hello, Fred. Are you having fun?”

 

She smiles as she listens to him chatting on. She doesn’t understand a lot of it of course but she can pick out certain words – Om (Tom), baby (Lizzie), yogt (yogurt – Fred’s favourite food), ipper (Kipper the dog) and interestingly the word ‘duck’ keeps coming up. There must be a memorable duck somewhere in Broadchurch!

 

“Okay, darling,” she eventually says. “Mummy and Uncle Alec will be home tomorrow.”

 

“Unck Ack, fone,” Fred demands.

 

“Uncle Alec is sleeping and Mummy’s tired too.” She feigns a yawn. “Night, night, Fred. Give the phone to Tom.”

 

There’s a lot of rustling, Tom’s voice demanding the phone back, Fred’s firm ‘no’, a thump, and then the line goes dead. Fred must’ve hung up the phone in protest.

 

Tom phones her straight back. “Fred dropped the phone on the carpet,” he laughs. They exchange goodbye’s and Ellie promises to call the next day, when she’s on her way home.

 

Turning off the lamp she tries to sleep but just ends up tossing and turning. She sits up in bed legs pulled to her chest resting her chin on her knees but still can’t relax. Climbing out of bed she paces the carpet, chewing on her fingernails. All day, she’s been weighing up the pros and cons of starting a relationship with Hardy, and she’s come to the conclusion that there’s one major difference between Hardy and Joe and the near-stranger (whose name she can’t remember) and that difference is trust. She trusts Hardy with her life, with her children’s lives. He’s her best friend, he stood by her, when most of her friend’s, and her own son, turned their backs on her. More than that he believed her when she told him she didn’t know about Joe – the ultimate test of trust in her book.

 

Finally she can’t stand it anymore! She wants to be with him. Hopefully he’s not too angry with her, she’s been treating him like shit all day, and she’s ashamed. Grabbing her keycard she exits the room.

 

On the short walk to Hardy’s door two teenage girls approach from the other direction, stop short, staring, before dissolving into high-pitched giggles. She is wearing her pyjamas so she supposes that’s funny, but their laughter doesn’t exactly make her feel sexy, or boost her confidence. This doesn’t bode well given that she’s on her way to seduce Alec Hardy.

 

At his door she sweeps her hair back out of her eyes. She doesn’t have to look in the mirror to know it’s a mess – matted and flat because following her shower she went to bed without bothering to dry it properly. Why didn’t she think to run a brush through it?

 

Forget her bloody hair. Much more crucial would’ve been to bring the pack of condoms currently sitting in the bottom of her makeup bag. She purchased them from the Weymouth, Nightclub bathroom the night she and Claire picked up those awful men. Oh my god, what is wrong with her? She needs to stop thinking about the last time she had sex as she’s quickly losing her nerve. She really should go back to her room and get the condoms, or maybe just go back to her room, full stop. Hardy’s bound to have condoms. It’s not as if he hasn’t been expecting this?

 

Giving up on her internal debate, she takes a steadying breath and raps lightly on the door.

 

It feels like a long time before it finally opens but in reality it’s less than ten seconds. First thing she notices is that his hair is just as mused up as hers. Second thing she observes is that like her, he’s dressed for bed. They always seem to end up meeting in their pyjamas these days.

 

He doesn’t say anything, merely steps aside, allowing her to enter. She doesn’t know who moves first, and she doesn’t care, but within seconds her arms are locked around his neck and his mouth is on hers. Their kisses are hungry and desperate, and each one leaves her craving more. She barely notices as her keycard slips from her fingers, dropping onto the floor.

 

“You’re giving me mixed signals,” Hardy murmurs against her mouth, but he doesn’t sound bothered by it.

 

“I know… shut up,” she breathes, going in for another kiss.

 

He trails hot kisses along her jaw-line, her neck, her throat, each spot his lips touch burned into her brain. This time she doesn’t pull back – her all-consuming need for him obliterating any remaining doubts.

 

Hands shaking his fingers move to the buttons of her pyjama top. Reaching the second button he loses patience with the task. Gripping the material either side, he pulls it apart, buttons popping.

 

She gasps, “What am I supposed to wear to get back to my room?”

 

Ellie doesn’t expect a reply – doubts he even hears her. She bites down on her bottom lip as he brushes aside her ruined top, baring her naked flesh to his hot gaze for the first time. Her breathing quickens, the skin of her chest flushing under such intense scrutiny. And then he’s touching her breasts, caressing her stomach, first with his fingers, then with his mouth and tongue, and all she can do is cling to him and moan.

 

Clutching her hands in his tee-shirt, she pulls it over his head, feasting her eyes on the smooth hard planes of his chest, sweeping her hand across the smattering of hair covering it. Then he’s pulling her against him, flesh-meeting-flesh, seeking her mouth with his, propelling them backwards in the direction of the bed.

 

Gently he eases her down on the bed on her back, climbing up to lie on his side next to her. Re-claiming her mouth, he resumes stroking her breasts before sliding his hand lower, brushing the edge of the waistband of her pyjamas.

 

“Oh god,” she whimpers against his mouth, lifting her bottom so he can remove her last remaining piece of clothing.

 

They both gasp when his fingers make contact with the most intimate part of her, and after that all she can do is plead him not to stop, until her vision begins to blur, and her body starts to tremble.

 

Afterwards, she’s aware of him leaving the bed, hears him rummaging around before returning to the bed with a foil packet, kicking off his own pyjamas in the process.

 

Her eyes roam his naked body, appreciatively. She reaches for the condom, “I want to put it on.”

 

He looks like all his Christmases have come at once as he hands it over. She takes her time gliding her hands along his erection before sheathing the latex over him.

 

Then he’s above her whispering into her hair, “Are you sure?” His expression is desperate as he waits for her reply. She briefly wonders how he’d react if she answered no. Not that she’s going to, not in a million years – she wants him just as much as he wants her.

 

“Yes, yes,” she urges. “Bloody hurry up, would you.”

 

 He laughs, and complies, entering her slowly, teasingly. Her hands stroke up and down his back as he sets a hard, fast, wild rhythm, plunging deeper with every stroke. Moving her hands to his shoulders, she holds on for dear life meeting him thrust for thrust.

 

So good. He feels so good. She’s close, so close. Their gazes meet, hold. Crying out, Ellie squeezes her eyes closed in blissful agony, as she reaches her second orgasm of the night.

 

He’s nearly there, and she wants to watch him just like he watched her, so she opens her eyes. When Hardy comes he throws back his head and arches his back sharply, groaning long and hard. Collapsing against her, he buries his face in her neck and mumbles ‘thank you’. Threading her fingers through his damp hair, she holds him close.

 

As soon as Hardy’s pulse slows and his breathing evens out he rolls them to their sides. Fumbling for a pillow, he adjusts it to support both their heads. For a while all they can do is gaze at one another in wonder too tired and content to form words.

 

Reaching over, he strokes her heated cheek with his thumb. “This is a lot more enjoyable than the last time we shared a hotel bed.”

 

“I know, wow, right?”

 

“It’s been a long time for me. Glad I didn’t forget how.”

 

“You definitely didn’t.”

 

They lie in comfortable, post-coital, bliss for a while, before climbing beneath the covers and settling in for the night.

 

Lying there, Ellie’s working up the courage to tell Hardy something she’s wanted to for ages, and she thinks she’s finally ready. A small part of her is still smarting from his comment over lunch that he’s the one doing all the confiding. “Um...” she bites her lip. “There’s something I have to tell you.”

 

“What is it?” She notices he looks a little worried.

 

“Nearly two months ago I had a one night stand. It meant nothing, and I regretted it the moment it was over. Well... er... during actually. The only reason I’m telling you now is because I don’t want there to be any secrets between us.”

 

“It wasn’t SOCO Brian, was it?”

 

“What? No... course not.” She doesn’t tell him that she asked Brian out for a drink, also last month. Busy month for her socially! He turned her down anyway, so it’s not like it’s an issue. “The night Claire and I went out, the night she changed her story for the first time, we picked up two random blokes and took them back to her place.”

 

“Did Claire pressure you?”

 

“Sort of, but ultimately it was my decision. I got really pissed, just wanted to escape from my shit life for a night. Didn’t work, made everything worse actually.” She decides not to mention the part where she asked the bloke to tell her he loved her. Some things are better left unsaid, and she’s beyond embarrassed and humiliated by what she said. Makes calling her teacher ‘Mum’ pale by comparison.

 

“You don’t think any less of me, do you?”

 

He looks her straight in the eye. “I don’t think any less of you.”

 

“It was really awful sex.”

 

“I’m sorry. Sorry you had to go through that.” He pulls her close, and she rests her head against his chest, revelling in the feeling of comfort and security his strong arms provide.

 

“Change of subject I think, but I don’t think you’re going to like this topic any better. We’ve slept together now, so I want you to call me Ellie, all right?”

 

Her question is met with silence.

 

She pokes him in the ribs. “And don’t you dare give me that ridiculous spiel about how you don’t have to address me by name cos you’re looking right at me so I know you’re talking to me… cos you ruined that theory of yours a long time ago by calling me Miller every second sentence.”

 

“All right.”

 

“And I get to call you Alec?”

 

“Fine.”

 

She looks up at him, “Or, people close to me call me Ell,” she says snuggling against his chest.

 

He shakes his head, “No.”

 

She smiles against his skin. “You’re right. Baby steps. Calling me by my Christian name is gonna be difficult enough for you.”

 

“Don’t blame me! You told me not to call you Ellie.”

 

Placing her palms against his chest, Ellie props herself up so she can frown at him. “I didn’t.”

 

“The day Joe was arrested you said: ‘Don’t call me Ellie’.”

 

All she can do is gape. “You’re holding that against me? I was traumatised that day.” Rolling away she buries her face in the pillow, muttering unintelligently. Turning, so her cheek rests against the pillow, she shakes her head at him, “What am I going to do with you?”

 

“I can think of a few things.”

 

Picking up the pillow, she whacks him in the head with it, “So can I, and none of them are fun for you.”

 

He winks, “Are they fun for you?”

 

Grinning, she rolls on top of him, “Let’s find out.”

 


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots of Kudos on the previous chapter. Much appreciated, ta. XD
> 
> ~Lisa.

ELLIE

 

Ellie wakes slowly, sleepily contented. And totally naked, an equally naked man spooned up against her. She quickly becomes aware of the hand caressing her breasts, his erection pressing against her bottom.

 

“Morning,” she sighs. “Nice way to wake up.”

 

“Mmm… morning,” he says, voice husky, lovely Scottish accent deepening. He nibbles gently on her earlobe. She squirms against him, which in turn causes him to groan against her skin.

 

It’s a long time before they get up.

 

Later, Ellie eases out of bed wrapping the sheet around her body. She’s never been comfortable walking around naked at the best of times but in the harsh light of day she feels even more self-conscious. Alec has no such qualms. She admires his naked bottom as he strides across the room, and steps into his pyjamas.

 

Pulling the sheet tighter around herself, she locates her own pyjama bottoms discarded in a ball next to the wardrobe, “Do you have a tee-shirt I can borrow?”

 

“Just the one I’ve been wearing to bed.”

 

She fumbles her pyjamas on whilst keeping the sheet in place, “That’ll do.”

 

“Erm…” He searches the floor for where he discarded his tee-shirt the night before, eventually spying it near the door. Crossing the room he holds it out to her.

 

Dropping the sheet, she slips it over her head, pulling it down, breathing in the all male scent that is uniquely Alec Hardy. She looks up to find him watching her closely, which causes her cheeks to warm.

 

She licks her lips. “Well, I’m gonna go and shower and pack.” She looks around. “Where’s my keycard? Oh…” Spotting it, she bends down to pick it up. “See you downstairs in about fifteen minutes for breakfast. Then we really should get going to Taunton, don’t you think?”

 

At the door they kiss for such a long time that she almost doesn’t make it back to her room!

 

* * *

 

 

For the third time in a twenty-four hour period, Alec and Ellie are knocking on the door of a relative of Joe’s.

 

A woman in her late thirties opens the door. Ellie recognises her from the photograph of Rachel Edgecombe, DS Anderson included in the paperwork he emailed to Alec.

 

This time she remains silent, lets Alec do his whole police routine, introducing them both as a South Mercier detectives, which isn’t entirely true.

 

Rachel immediately recognises Ellie, “You’re Joe’s wife, aren’t you?”

 

Ellie thinks she might kick the next person who associates her with Joe Miller, or refers to her as his wife.

 

“Ex-wife,” she mutters under her breath.

 

“Your dad didn’t phone you?” Alec inquires. “Tell you we were coming? We mentioned it when we visited him yesterday.”

 

While he’s speaking Ellie’s mesmerised by the strand of hair that’s close to falling across his eyes. The need to brush it back is so strong that she has to ball her hands into fists. _Concentrate, Ellie,_ she thinks.

 

Leading them into a homely-looking kitchen, Rachel gestures a hand in the direction of the table, inviting them to sit down. “As you’ve probably figured out for yourselves, Dad and I aren’t close. It doesn’t surprise me that he didn’t ring.” Standing at the sink, she fills the kettle with water, “Tea?”

 

They both decline, and after making herself a cup, she joins them at the table.

 

“When did you move to Taunton?” Ellie asks.

 

“Four years ago, for work. I’m an Events Manager. Met my husband, Tim, and the rest, as they say, is history. By that stage I’d given up on ever having a close relationship with either of my parents. Thankfully, Tim’s parents are great, treat me like a daughter.”

 

“How old were you when your brother, Tom, was born?” Ellie knows the answer, has read the information sent on Rachel, but figures it’s a good starting point to get her to open up about Tom.

 

“I was four. Before he came along, Mum doted on me. Dad was always distance. After Tom was born and Joe started spending more time at our house, Mum and Dad basically forgot about me.”

 

Ellie has her doubts that a child of four would be able to form such concrete memories, or comprehend complex emotions, but she keeps quiet. 

 

Leaning forward in his chair, Alec rests his palms on the table. “Did you resent all the attention your brother and Joe received?”

 

Rachel runs a finger around the rim of her cup, “A bit.”

 

“Sorry to have to ask this,” Ellie takes a deep breath. “But do you have any idea why your brother committed suicide?” She refuses to think, let alone say, the words ‘Tom’ and ‘suicide’ in the same sentence.

 

Lowering her eyes, Rachel takes a large gulp of her drink. “I just don’t know. He never confided in anyone. Tom’s death shocked us all. Sorry, I’m not being much help, am I?”

 

“It’s okay,” Ellie reassures.

 

“What did you think of Joe, when you were growing up?”

 

Rachel shoots an angry look Alec’s way. “Obviously I didn’t think much of him since he basically took my place in my family, stole my parents and brother’s affections.”

 

“Were you surprised when you heard Joe had been arrested for killing a young boy?”

 

“You mean did I start to wonder whether or not Joe might’ve abused my own brother?”

 

Alec nods, “Yes.”

 

Rachel gives him a forlorn look, “It did occur to me, but if there was anything inappropriate going on, I wasn’t aware of it, and I followed them around a lot. I guess we’ll never know will we? It’s not like Tom can communicate with us from beyond the grave?”

 

* * *

 

“I think we’ve pretty much reached a dead end,” Alec says, grabbing his duffel bag from the boot. They’ve just arrived back and she and Alec are standing on the driveway outside the cottage.

           

“All I feel is relief. It’s looking more and more like Joe and Tom’s relationship was just an innocent friendship between two cousins after all, and not anything more sinister.”

 

“Even though we didn’t really get any answers regarding Joe, I don’t regret taking this trip with you.”

 

“I don’t either. We started the weekend as two former detectives, and ended it as lovers on a dirty weekend away.”

 

He moves closer to her, “What time did you tell Beth you were gonna pick up Tom and Fred?”

 

“I didn’t.” Her pulse starts to race.

 

Next thing they’re in each other’s arms, kissing frantically. Pulling her inside the house, Alec kicks the door closed.

 

The words she once spoke to Claire inadvertently pop into her head: _“Oh, please. Have a little self-control.”_

 

Lack of self-control has never felt so good!

 

* * *

 

 

The Latimer’s front door opens, and Beth peers closely at her friend, “You look all glow-y, Ell?”

 

“Long drive. It was hot in the car.”

 

“It’s not even summer,” Tom observes from behind Beth.

 

Ellie’s eyes drift behind them. “Where’s Fred?” she says, to create a distraction. “Not hiding again, I hope?”

 

Beth laughs, “No, both he and Lizzie are sound asleep. I tried to keep him up until you arrived, but when I discovered him lying down on the carpet in front of the telly, I knew I was fighting a losing battle. When we spoke you’d just left Taunton so I thought you’d arrive in an hour and a half, at the most?”

 

“Ah... yes... traffic was diabolical. Think there was a couple of sporting events on. And I had to drop Alec at the cottage.” She hopes her face doesn’t look as flushed as she feels.

 

Beth raises her eyebrows, at the same moment Ellie realises she’s just referred to him as ‘Alec’ rather than ‘Hardy’. Tom’s eying her suspiciously as well.

 

Ushering Ellie inside, Beth clears her throat. “Tea, I think, while we wait for Fred to wake up?”

 

When they’ve seated at the kitchen table, tea in front of them, Beth says: “The four of us are heading up to London first thing tomorrow, to stay a couple of nights, do some shopping. Lizzie’s growing like a weed, and desperately needs some new clothes, and Chloe’s dying to check out the shops in Oxford Street. We used to do stuff like that all the time, before Danny – “ She looks down, staring into her tea.

 

Reaching across the table, Ellie places her hand over Beth’s. “I think that’s a lovely idea.”

 

Their discussion soon turns to the trip to Cardiff. Beth shakes her head, “I still can’t believe that man kept the fact he had three living relatives a secret? Well I can believe it, knowing what we know about Joe’s character now, but I’m still thrown by how deep his lies run.”

 

“Four relatives, cos his aunt only died last week,” Ellie reminds her, dunking a ginger nut in her tea.  “Actually, five, his dad was still alive when Joe and I first got together.” She’s wonders if Beth considers her an idiot. She’s a detective for god’s sake, she could’ve run a past check on Joe, asked him more probing questions when they first got together, but she trusted Joe, believed him when he told her he had no living relatives.

 

“I wonder why he didn’t answer his uncle’s letters whilst in prison. You think having Geoffrey Miller as a character witness would’ve been a good idea? And why would he choose to be alone in Sheffield, rather than go back to his family in Cardiff?

 

“Maybe he was cocky, thought he didn’t need a character witness, and as it turns out he didn’t,” Ellie says bitterly. “As far as Sheffield goes, we did force his hand. He was probably worried what would happen if he didn’t go where we told him to.”

 

“Or he didn’t want anyone to know he had an uncle? Come to think of it, why keep any of his relatives a secret all these years? I can understand it if they thought he was strange or odd, he wouldn’t have wanted you knowing that, but from what you’ve said his aunt and uncle thought he was the bee’s knees?”

 

She and Alec have already had an in depth discussion of all these points and unanswered questions, on the drive home from Wales, so none of this is news to Ellie. “You sound as obsessed as Alec.”

 

“When did you start calling Hardy, Alec? Thought that was taboo?”

 

Looking down, Ellie makes a show of smoothing out a wrinkle in the tablecloth.

From where she’s sitting she can see through to the sitting room to where Tom’s curled up on the sofa, head buried in one of Mark’s car magazines. He appears to be pretty engrossed but he could still be listening, and she wants to talk to Tom about Alec, before anyone else, including Beth.

 

Following her gaze, Beth nods understandably, mouthing ‘call me later’ to Ellie.

 

* * *

 

“Tom, I need to talk you about something important,” Ellie tells her son. It’s after dinner, Fred’s in bed, and she and Tom are seated next to each other on the sofa.

 

“Is it about DI Hardy?” he asks, without looking up from his smartphone.

 

“Yes. Would you mind putting your phone down while we talk?”

 

With some reluctance, Tom does as he’s told, stretching forward to place his mobile on the coffee table. Slouching back against the cushions, he folds his arms across his chest, kicking the coffee table with his socked foot, waiting for her to speak.

 

“What do you think of him, DI Hardy?”

 

Tom shrugs his shoulders, “He’s okay, I guess.”

 

“That’s a more positive response than I was expecting. I was worried you didn’t like him at all?”

 

“I didn’t used to, but we’ve had a few chats since then.”

 

She has to press her lips together to prevent herself from smiling, doesn’t want Tom to think that she doesn’t take him seriously, because she does. “Oh really? That’s good.”

 

“Yeah. He’s still pretty weird though.”

 

This time she can’t help but smile, “I think so too.”

 

Shyly, Tom peers up at her, “You like him a lot, don’t you Mum?”

 

Making sure to hold his gaze, she nods firmly, “Yes.”

 

“Then I guess it’s okay with me, for you to start... um... dating him.” Ellie notices Tom’s ears have gone very red.

 

“Thank you, darling.” Tears sting her eyes. She can’t help it! She’s so relieved her son approves of Alec, isn’t sure what she’d do if he didn’t. Her mouth wobbles, “I sure could use a hug?”

 

Tom scoots closer, and Ellie draws him into an embrace.

 

“I don’t have to call him Uncle Alec, like Fred does, do I?” he asks, screwing up his nose.

 

Amused, Ellie shakes her head. “That’s just something I started because I knew it would annoy him. You can call him Alec though, if you want to?” She wiggles her eyebrows, “He’ll hate that.”

 

A mischievous grin lights up Tom’s face, “Think, I will.”

 


	14. Chapter 14

Warning for this Chapter: for disturbing material. I tried to keep it as non-graphic as possible, so I reckon it wouldn’t be more than a Teen-rating, but just in case.

  

ALEC

 

Alec’s just drying his breakfast dishes, when his mobile starts to ring. He smiles to himself, wonders if it’s Ellie calling, hopes she has some free time today, is dying to make love to her again. Grinning, he drops the tea towel on the counter, diving for his Blackberry.

 

The screen displays a number he doesn’t recognise. Frowning, he connects the call, “What?”

 

“DI Hardy?” asks the caller tentatively, sounding a bit thrown by his abrupt tone. “It’s Rachel Edgecombe. We spoke yesterday.”

 

He sucks in a breath, “Have you remembered something?”

 

Instead of answering, she says: “I was hoping to drive down and see you and Ellie later today, around lunchtime?”

 

“Here? He’s unable to keep the astonishment out of his voice. “To Broadchurch?”

 

“If that’s okay?”

 

“Erm... all right,” he agrees, giving her his address.

 

As soon as she ends the call he immediately phones Ellie, getting straight to the point as soon as she picks up. “Rachel Edgecombe just phoned, said she wants to speak to us in person. She’s on her way here now.”

 

“What?” He can hear wee Fred chatting away in the background. “Did she say why?”

 

“No, wasn’t willing to go into it over the phone. I gave her directions to the cottage. Didn’t think you’d want any relative of Joe’s in your home. She’s due around lunchtime.”

 

“I don’t want to bring Fred with me, and all my babysitters are out of town, and Olly’s working. Let me give Fred’s child minder a call, it’s not her day, but hopefully she can still take him. Otherwise, you might have to speak to her on your own.”

 

His chest tightens. He needs her with him; doesn’t relish the idea of speaking to Rachel solo. “Call me back, when you’ve spoken to the child minder. I can’t do this alone, Ellie. You have a way with people.”

 

He hangs up without giving her a chance to answer because complimenting people has always made him uncomfortable, but he wants Ellie to know that he respects her professionally.

 

* * *

 

Just prior to one o’clock, Rachel precedes Alec into his sitting room. Indicating to the armchair directly across from the sofa he invites her to have a seat.

 

Ellie’s already there, perched on the edge of the sofa. Crossing the room, he sinks down beside her, his leg touching hers. “We’re rather surprised that you’d drive all this way to see us, especially considering we just spoke yesterday.”

 

“I may as well get straight to the point.” Opening her handbag she produces a brown, leather-bound book. “After Tom died I found his journal hidden in the garden shed under a loose floorboard. It was a hiding place he didn’t think I knew about. I never knew he kept a journal; don’t think anyone else did either.”

 

“You’ve had this journal all these years?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“What’s in it?”

 

Tossing it on the coffee table, it lands with a thud directly in front of where he and Ellie sit. They both stare down at it, neither moving to pick it up.

 

“I’ve bookmarked the relevant sections,” Rachel informs them, her tone of voice sounding far too matter-of-fact for someone to use when discussing her dead brother’s journal.

 

Gingerly, Alec reaches for it; has no desire to find out what it contains, but knows one of them has to look. Inclining his head towards Ellie, he shifts his eyes from the journal to her, checking in case she would prefer to read it with him.

 

“I can’t,” she apologises, shaking her head back and forth several times. She even makes a point of sliding to the far end of the sofa, as if the journal’s a bomb on the verge of exploding, and in a way it is. “I don’t want to know what’s in it. I’m sorry, Alec. I’m sorry. I know you don’t want to read it anymore than I do.”

 

His glasses are on the table in front of him. He takes his time reaching for them, trying to delay what he has to do for as long as possible. Taking a steadying breath, he flips the book to the last bookmarked passage, figuring it will be the worse, and it is! He closes the book with a snap. He notices all the bookmarks match, and he wonders if she bought them specifically for this task, and then wonders how sick someone would have to be to do that.

 

Removing his glasses, he runs his hands down his face as if trying to wipe the words from his memory. He feels a tug on his hand, as Ellie reaches for it, clasping her hand around his, threading their fingers together.

 

Locking eyes with Rachel, Alec explodes, “Joe touched your younger brother, wrote about it in his journal, and you deliberately kept the journal from the police? What kind of person, are you?”

 

Rachel flinches, but barely. Leaning forward, she stares him down. “That’s not all,” she says in the same tone one uses to talk about the weather.

 

 _Oh god!_ he thinks, feeling Ellie’s hand stiffen against his. He gives it a squeeze.

 

“About a week before Tom died I followed them to the local park, where they used to hang out a lot. They didn’t see me cos I was hiding behind a tree. I overheard Tom telling Joe that he was gonna tell Dad Joe was touching him.”

 

Ellie gasps, “How could you keep something like that to yourself? If you had of told someone what your heard your brother might still be alive?”

 

“I didn’t realise he was gonna go and do something as final as taking his own life, did I? I doubt Mum and Dad would’ve believed me anyway.”

 

“Did you talk to Tom? Tell him what you overheard?” Alec says grimly.

 

Rachel shakes her head, “No, but after Tom died I showed Dad the journal, and he had the nerve to accuse  me of writing it, even though it was in Tom’s handwriting, told me not to dare show it to Mum, that she was too fragile to deal with my lies. He tried to grab the journal from me, intending to dispose of it, but I ran off. I kept silent though, out of all of them my Mum was the only one I loved, even though she didn’t love me back. But now Mum’s dead, and I don’t care about Joe, so I have no reason to keep quiet now.”

 

“Geoffrey wasn’t the only one who knew about the journal? You told Joe as well, but not until later,” Ellie guesses.

 

Alec looks at her in surprise, wondering what she’s pieced together, that he hasn’t.

 

Shooting her a triumphant look, a slow smile crosses Rachel’s face. “I got so sick of my parent’s fawning all over Joe that I decided to do something about it, so I told him about the existence of Tom’s journal, what it contained, told him to get the hell out of Cardiff and never come back. And he did. Wish I had of thought of it years earlier.”

 

 _She’s ruined lives,_ Alec thinks. _But, to her, it’s just one big game._

 

“And he came to Broadchurch, and met me.” Ellie’s voice is numb.

 

Alec slams his hand down on the coffee table, causing both the women in the room to jump. “You do realise that your actions drove Joe here, where pretty soon he met and married Ellie, that she had no idea what he was. Then they went on to have two children – both boys.” He leans closer, “And we both know how much Joe likes boys.”

 

Rachel looks over at Ellie. “Sorry,” she apologises, not sounding particularly sincere. “I keep forgetting you’re his wife.”

 

“Why didn’t you give us the journal yesterday?”

 

“Dunno. Wasn’t sure whether I could trust you. Wanted to think about it some more first.”

 

“You’ve had over twenty years to think about it!” Alec is on his feet, pulling Ellie up with him. “Stay there! Don’t you move! We’ll be just outside the door.” In the hall he shuts the door to the sitting room behind them.

 

“Fuck! She really doesn’t give a shit, does she?” Alec paces the carpet, waving the journal around, making sure to keep one eye glued to the sitting room door in case Rachel gets it in her head to leave.

 

Her eyes are focused on the journal, “It’s bad, isn’t it?”

 

His anger evaporates at the sight of Ellie looking so small and vulnerable. “I only read one entry, but it’s bad enough.” Gathering her in his arms, he rocks her gently. “I’m sorry, Ellie. I know it’s a shock. I wish I could take your pain away.”

 

“You do,” she whispers, her words reverberating against his chest. “You think it would be a shock, but I’ve been preparing myself for this day ever since Joe was arrested. Do you think that means Joe did touch Danny?”

 

“We’ll never know. Hopefully their ‘friendship’ never reached that stage.”

 

He reluctantly ends the embrace, wants to hold her in his arms forever and never let her go, but he’s reluctant to leave Rachel alone for too long. He holds up the journal, “We need to get this into evidence, and convince Rachel to come quietly with us to the station. I’d prefer not to have to resort to having her arrested. Might make her clam up.”

 

“Broadchurch?”

 

He shakes his head, “South Mercier. They’re aware of what we’ve been doing.”

 

“You think Rachel’s gonna agree to go?”

 

“I’ll drag her there if I have to.”

 

Ellie sighs, “That pretty much contradicts what you just said about keeping her on side.”

 

It suddenly occurs to Alec that Lee and Claire once jumped out of a window, right under their noses. Heart pounding, he throws the door open, but Rachel’s still sitting there, arms folded in her lap. She doesn’t even flinch when he bursts into the room; instead just looks up at him, and smiles.

 

“So, here’s what’s gonna happen,” he tells her. “You’re gonna follow us in your car to the police station in South Mercier and repeat exactly what you’ve just told us.”

 

Ellie’s approach is a lot softer. “Please,” she says. “I know you and your brother weren’t close, but surely you still want justice for what Joe did to him?”

 

* * *

 

“Cheers, Jan.” Ellie presses ‘end call’ on her phone. Turning to Alec, she says: My child minder has agreed to keep Fred as long as I need and Olly’s gonna pick Tom up after school, take him back to the Echo office.”

 

Alec and Ellie have just arrived at South Mercier CID. They watch as an officer escorts Rachel to the interview room, where Tess and DS Anderson are waiting.

 

Looking after Joe’s cousin’s retreating back, Ellie says: “God, Joe’s relatives are almost as sick as he is. Both Rachel and Geoffrey knew Joe was a paedophile, and they kept quiet. Do you think they’ll be charged?”

 

Leaning against an unoccupied desk, Alec shakes his head. “Dunno. It’ll be up to CPS whether they think it’s worthwhile, or not. If they both agree to be witnesses against Joe, then it’s probably unlikely.”

 

 “Tom and Fred are having nothing to do with either of them,” she says firmly. “Bad enough they’re related to my children. What if – “ She lowers her head, unable to complete the sentence.

 

 “You’re worried one of your sons might turn out to be like Joe, or even Rachel or Geoffrey. They won’t!”

 

“You don’t know that!”

 

He bobs his head, his expression determined. “I do, cos they have you as their mother. They’re good boys, both of them. If anything, I’d be more worried that one of them is gonna grow up to be like Oliver!” He gives a mock shudder.

 

Ellie’s face breaks into a wide smile, the kind of smile that always has the ability to warm his heart.

 

The sound of someone clearing their throat nearby has them both pivoting around. “Ellie.” Tess is standing there, regarding them, her expression amused. “Rachel Edgecombe says she won’t make a statement unless you’re there. Are you up to it?”

 

Looking surprised at being asked, Ellie nods her permission.

 

“I’ll sit in as well,” Alec says firmly.

 

“No, you won’t. Rachel specifically requested you not be there.” Tess’ mouth quips. “Seems she doesn’t think much of the way you spoke to her.”

 

“I don’t think much of her, full stop!”

 

“You can wait in my office if you like?” Tess says, over her shoulder.

 

* * *

 

There’s a photo of Daisy on Tess’ desk that Alec has never seen. She’s smiling at the camera looking way too old for her age, with her shiny hair, glossy lips and heavy eye makeup. She’s growing up so fast, and he’s missing out on it. What kind of father is he, choosing to live in a different town to his daughter, only seeing her every few months, if that? She deserves better. A part of him knows that they’d both end up making each other miserable if he moved to South Mercier just for the sake of Daisy. She’s at an age where she doesn’t want her dad around constantly butting into her life, and she’d probably grow to resent him. In a year, two, she’ll want to leave school, strike out on her own, or maybe go to university in another town. Where would that leave him? Stuck in South Mercier alone? Then there’s Ellie…

 

He jumps, when Tess walks into the room. He looks beyond her, his brow furrowing, “Where’s, Ellie?”

 

“In the loo.”

 

“I’d better go and check on her,” he frowns, moving towards the door. “She has a habit of hiding out in toilets when things get too much.”

 

“She’s fine, Alec. She’ll be here in a minute. I’m not having you barging into the ladies toilets, and scaring some poor unsuspecting junior officer.”

 

“All right,” He collapses into the chair closest to the filing cabinet.

 

“You’re gonna re-investigate Tom’s death, right?” Alec insists. “I know it was ruled suicide back then, but Tom did threaten to tell his dad what Joe was doing. At sixteen, Joe would’ve been strong enough physically to hoist the weight of a thirteen year-old into a tree, and we know he’s capable of murder.”

 

Tess takes a seat behind her desk. “Yes. I have it under control. From this point on you are to have nothing to do with this case whatsoever, Alec. Same goes for Ellie as well. Newport police are picking up Geoffrey Miller as we speak, taking him to the nick to be interviewed. I’ve contacted Sheffield CID, apprised them of the situation. Two of my best officers are currently going through the journal with a fine-toothed comb, making sure to tick all the boxes, and dot all the I’s before we move to arrest Joe. So that probably won’t happen until later tonight. It’s going to be hard enough getting around the fact that you and Ellie have been looking into Miller’s past on the sly. Last thing any of us wants is for Joe Miller’s trial to be jeopardised a second time, by the actions of his wife and the man currently sleeping with his wife.”

 

“How did you – “ At the look on her face he stops, realising too late that she didn’t know, just suspected, and now he’s gone and put his foot in it. “Shit!” he says, under his breath.

 

“Give me some credit, Alec. I saw how the two of you were looking at one another earlier. Not only am I a great detective but I was also married to you for fifteen years, and there was a time you used to look at me the way you now look at Ellie Miller.”

 

“She’s his ex-wife. They’re divorced now.” He feels the need to point that out. Wants Tess to know that Ellie is not like her – that she values the sanctity of marriage. “Erm, I was hoping to visit Daisy this weekend, if she doesn’t have anything on, tell her about Ellie.”

 

“I’ll check with her, but as far as I’m aware she’s free, so it should be fine.”

 

Alec rubs his thumb along the underside of his jaw. “Thanks.”

 

“It’s Daisy’s sixteenth birthday next month!”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“We’ll need to talk about a present when it gets closer. Maybe you could come to her party, bring Ellie?”

 

“Really?”

 

“Of course. I’m not trying to keep Daisy from you, Alec. You’re the one who’s choosing to live in another town...”

 

He’s about to give Tess a piece of his mind when Ellie walks into the room.

 

“I spoke to Paul. He’s gonna give his vicar friend the heads up, let him know that officers intend to arrest Joe later today, and then Paul’ll call me straight back.” She turns to Alec. “Tess and I thought it would be a good idea to tell Paul’s friend, otherwise he might panic and think Joe’s gone missing again.”

 

Alec gives her an odd look, “You phoned him from the toilet?”

 

“Course not. I rang him while walking between the toilet and here.” Her phone rings, and she glances down at the display. “This is him now.” She puts the phone to her ear, “Hi, Paul.” A moment later. “Oh, right.” More silence. “I’ll give you Tess Henchard’s number; she’s the detective in charge of the case. Um…” She covers the mouthpiece to ask Tess for her number, but Tess is already handing Ellie her card. Ellie relays the information to the Broadchurch vicar. “Thanks, Paul. Bye.”

 

“Paul’s vicar friend is called Neil, so we can stop referring to him as Paul’s vicar friend. Paul phoned Neil, but it went straight to voicemail just as Paul remembered that Neil runs a support group at the local Youth Centre for troubled teens Monday afternoons so his phone would be switched off. Paul said he might not be able to get hold of Neil in time for Joe’s arrest, cos Paul has an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting in Yeovil straight after dinner, but if he does he’ll call you Tess.”

 

“Thanks for that, Ellie,” Tess says.

 

Alec inclines his head in Ellie’s direction. “Tess is kicking us out!” He doesn’t have to turn around to feel his ex-wife’s eyes boring into the back of his head, undoubtedly glaring at him. “We’re to have nothing to do with the investigation from now on.”

 

Ellie runs a tired hand down her face. “That’s okay. I just want to get home to Tom and Fred anyway.”

 

* * *

 

Alec’s been feeling jittery and restless even since he and Ellie left South Mercier. He can’t stand bloody waiting – hates being shut out of the investigation. On the drive back Ellie keeps getting annoyed with him – for fidgeting in his seat, playing with the radio, powering the window up and down, as well as constantly checking his phone. Reaching Broadchurch, he tells Ellie to drop him off at the beach, rather than the cottage, thinking that a walk might get rid of some of his agitation. He invites Ellie along, but she declines, saying she needs to pick Fred up from the child minders and Tom from Olly. And the brisk walk does the trick. After two hours on the beach Alec does feel decidedly more relaxed. The beach is really growing on him. Who would’ve thought?

 

He’s just climbing out of a taxi outside the cottage when his phone rings. Tess! Finally! He makes a grab for it, “Is it done? Have you arrested Joe?”

 

“Alec,” A cold feeling runs down his spine at the urgency in Tess’ voice. Her next words fill him with dread. “Is Ellie with you?”

 

The taxi’s just started backing down the driveway. Alec yells at the driver to wait. “No,” he says. “As far as I’m aware she went home. What’s happened?”

 

Tess speaks fast. “When Sheffield officers arrived at Joe’s half-way house he wasn’t there, no one had seen him since before lunch. Concerned they went to the church of Paul Coates vicar friend, and discovered him on the floor, out cold. He’s conscious – says Joe struck him on the head, hours ago. I’ve tried to phone Ellie but there’s no answer at her house, and her mobile’s going straight to voicemail. I’ve notified Broadchurch Police and they’ve dispatched a car to Ellie’s house. Taunton police are sending a car to Rachel’s house in case Joe’s somehow found out she’s a witness. Joe would be stupid to return to Broadchurch but – “

 

During her speech, Alec has already climbed into the cab and given the driver Ellie’s address. “Hurry!” he orders. “It’s an emergency.”

 

He closes his eyes as the taxi speeds towards town. _Please let them be okay,_ he prays.


	15. Chapter 15

 ELLIE

 

Walking into her kitchen the time on the microwave catches Ellie’s eye – 18:17. She didn’t realise it was so late; thinks it’s strange that she hasn’t yet heard from anyone regarding Joe’s arrest. Maybe it’s taking Tess’ team longer than they thought to go through the journal. Maybe she didn’t hear her phone? She’s been upstairs for the past half an hour giving Fred his bath, and putting him to bed, desperately trying to keep herself as busy as possible while she anxiously waits for news of Joe.

 

Come to think of it where is her mobile? Her bag’s on the table, so she pulls it towards her by the strap. Raking through it, she’s surprised to discover that her phones not in there. The last call she made was to Paul Coates, from South Mercier CID.

 

_Must’ve fallen out in the car,_ she thinks, pulling out her keys. Locating a torch in the cupboard, she exits the kitchen stopping on her way down the hall to grab her coat.

 

She pokes her head in the sitting room, “Tom, I’m just going out to the car. Can’t find my mobile. You haven’t seen it have you?”

 

He shakes his head. Glued to the TV screen, he doesn’t even glance up.

 

Stepping outside, Ellie locks the door behind her. She recalls a time, before Danny was murdered, before Joe was arrested, when she didn’t bother to lock up half the time. Small town life used to be so safe.

 

She crosses the porch, which activates the security light, and starts down the path. Hearing a rustling sound from the hedge, she aims the beam of the torch, heart pounding. There’s a yowl of fright, and the neighbour’s cat slinks away in the direction of the playing field.

 

Ellie lets out a relieved breath. Reaching the driveway she aims the key fob, the car lights briefly illuminating the surrounding area, a single beep echoing throughout the night. Crawling about the car on her hands and knees she does a thorough search of the interior, but unfortunately comes up empty. She even looks in the boot even though she knows very well that she hasn’t opened it all day.

 

Walking into the house she shuts, and relocks the door. In the sitting room she searches for the portable, intending to call Alec to check he hasn’t heard anything, tell him her mobile’s missing. What a time to misplace her bloody mobile! Of course the phones not on the charger where it should be, it never is. She can’t even blame Tom, he rarely uses the landline, and she’s the worst culprit at putting it away. Finally, she locates it hidden under a sofa cushion. Speed dialling Alec’s mobile, she taps her foot impatiently, waiting for the line to connect.

 

There’s a click, and then nothing. No dial tone! She hits redial, gets the same result. She gives the phone a shake, as if she thinks the dial tones somehow trapped inside the receiver and movement will release it.

 

“Oh, you’re kidding me,” she moans, whacking the phone down on the coffee table. “The line’s down. Bloody Sky’s gonna get a right bollocking!”

 

Heading back to the kitchen she double checks her handbag in case her phone’s somehow magically reappeared, but it’s definitely not there.

 

Returning to the sitting room, she frowns at Tom, then at the TV. “Wait, are you watching Sky? Doesn’t that work through the landline?” She doesn’t know much about electronics, but she pays the bill, she knows that much.

 

“Naw,” he waves his hand in the vicinity of the TV cabinet. “DVD.”

 

“Where’s your mobile? I’ll try ringing my phone, see if I can locate it. Fred’s hidden it a couple of times before, remember? Then I’ll give Sky a call; find out what’s going on with the landline.”

 

“Tom –" He hasn’t moved, still engrossed in his show. “Your phone.”

 

“It’s up in my room.”

 

“Well, go and get it.” He lets out a loud groan, one that would have made Alec proud. Bloody hell! You’d think she’s just asked him to climb a mountain, instead of the stairs!

 

Heaving a sigh, he takes his sweet time climbing to his feet, pointing the remote at the DVD player to stop his programme, before slumping out of the room.

 

“Thank you!” Crossing the room, she rummages through the top drawer of the TV cabinet, looking for a past bill from Sky. If she had her mobile this would be so much easier since the number for Sky is programmed in. Nothing! Wait, she thinks it’s in the portable phone…

 

“Mum," she hears Tom call.

 

“Hmmm…” She picks up the phone from the coffee table, hitting the button for the address book. She hears footsteps on the stairs.

 

“Ah-ha,” she says, locating the number. Sensing movement in the doorway she looks up, to see her son standing there, a frozen expression on his face.

 

It takes a moment for it to register that he’s in distress, “Tom – “

 

Without a word Tom steps into the room, to reveal Joe standing behind him, a sleepy-looking Fred in his arms.

 

Stumbling backwards, Ellie bangs her shin on the edge of the coffee table, the phone falling from her grasp to land on the carpet. “Joe!”

 

“Hello, Ell.”

 

“How… how’d you get in here?” She curses the tremor in her voice, hates the fact that she’s terrified of him.

 

“Kitchen window. Sometimes the lock doesn’t catch. I meant to fix it but never got around to it.”

 

She could kick herself. She’d completely forgotten about that temperamental window. Some detective she is!

 

He throws two phones onto the sofa, hers and Tom’s. So that’s what happened to her phone. “I see you painted our bedroom,” he says.

 

She licks her lips. _How long has he been inside her house? Long enough to locate both phones, and disable the phone line, obviously!_ “There is no _our_ , Joe.” She knows she shouldn’t be giving such an emotional response; is aware she shouldn’t antagonise him. That, instead, she should be concentrating on trying to keep him as calm as possible, especially given the fact that he’s currently holding her son.

 

Joe runs a hand through Fred’s hair. “He’s changed so much.” The toddler, thank god, is still half asleep, not really aware of his surroundings. Ellie’s worried he might wake up and start to fuss, and she’s not sure how Joe’ll react to that. She’s afraid he might take it as some kind of personal rejection.

 

“Let me take him. Please Joe.”

 

Joe shakes his head, “He’s fine here, happy with his dad.” He bounces Fred in his arms. “Aren’t you, Freddy? You’ve missed your dad, haven’t you?”

 

Fred starts at the unexpected jolt. Opening his eyes, he looks at Joe in confusion. He looks over at Ellie, holding out his arms for her, “Mummy.”

 

Ellie tries her best to reassure him, “It’s okay, Fred, darling.” But Fred doesn’t understand. Letting out a wail, he kicks out at Joe, squirming to get free.

 

“He doesn’t remember you, Dad,” Tom yells. “You’re scaring him.”

 

“He’s not scared of me.” He looks at Ellie as if she’s been disloyal to him. “You’ve poisoned him against me.”

 

She shakes her head, doing her best to placate him. “I haven’t. He’s only little. Children his age have short memories.”

 

He sinks down into the armchair, Fred on his lap. Thankfully Fred has stopped crying, but he still looks upset. “I looked after Fred from the moment he was born, did everything for him.” He looks at her accusingly. “All you cared about was your work.”

 

“What do you want Joe? Why are you here?”

 

“The four of us, we could run away together, start afresh. Be a real family again.”

 

“It’s not gonna happen Joe.”

 

“I still love you, Ell.”

 

His words sicken her, but she desperately tries to keep her face neutral. Ellie can’t risk making him angry. Anger is dangerous. Anger is out-of-control. Her sole focus is on getting herself and her children out of the house in one piece.

 

“I know you and Hardy have been to Cardiff recently, snooping into my past. I rang my Mum. She happened to mention the lovely people who’d been to visit. When prompted, Mum managed to describe the two of you pretty accurately. Guess it was one of her good days.”

 

He must’ve been in regular contact with his mum if he knows about her lapses in memory. She feels so stupid. She and Alec should’ve been more careful. It’s their fault her kids are at risk.

 

Sirens sound in the distance.

 

“You know about me and my cousin, don’t you? It’s not what you think, Ell. We loved each other. He wanted me to do those things to him.”

 

Bile rises in her throat. She swallows it down. Blue flashing lights are visible through the gap where the closed sitting room curtains don’t quite meet in the centre. “It’s over, Joe,” she says firmly. The police are here.” She steps closer. “Let me take Fred.”

 

He looks defeated. Dropping his arms to his sides, he allows her to reach down and take the toddler from him. She hugs him close for a moment, before stepping over to her eldest son, and handing her youngest son to him. “Tom, take Fred. Let the officers in, and then stay outside.”

 

Tom nods, heading for the door. On his way out he glances briefly at his father. There’s hate in Tom’s eyes, hate and betrayal.

 

Ellie breathes a sigh of relief. Both her sons are out of harm’s way. She looks at Joe. He just sits there, a blank expression on his face.

 

_He’s such a coward,_ she thinks.

 

Two officers walk into the room. One of them is Bob who she used to work with, the other one she doesn’t recognise.

 

Spotting her, Bob touches his hat. “Ma’am,” he says, deferring to her former station of detective sergeant.

 

“Bob.”

 

She’s not sure why she’s still standing here. She really should be outside with her children, but she feels compelled to stay. Wants to make sure the arrest is above board; that he leaves her house for the last time and never comes back. The officers read Joe his rights, and then handcuff him. He doesn’t protest, nor does he resist.

 

There’s a commotion outside, followed by the sound of heavy footsteps entering the house. “Ellie!” calls Alec’s frantic voice.

 

“In here,” she answers.

 

A half second later he appears in the doorway looking so distressed that her heart almost breaks.

 

He’s across the room in a flash, pulling her into his arms. She can feel his body trembling as she buries her face in his shoulder. He strokes her hair.

 

“Let’s get out of here.” There’s a catch in his voice. He hasn’t looked at Joe once since he entered the room. His only concern is for her.

 

Joe calls out her name, in a pleading tone, but she ignores him. Placing a hand gently on her elbow, Alec steers her towards the door. She can’t resist shooting a look in her former husband’s direction. Their eyes meet, hold. Ellie can pinpoint the exact moment Joe realises Alec has everything that was once his. For Ellie it’s a satisfying feeling. Turning her back on Joe, she walks out of the room, Alec at her side.

 

* * *

 

ALEC

 

“Paul says Neil’s gonna be okay,” Ellie says, walking into the kitchen to where Alec is sitting at the table, drinking tea. He looks at her, blankly. “Paul’s vicar friend,” she reminds him.

 

“Oh, right! That’s a relief.” Following the dreadful ordeal she and her sons went through tonight, Alec insisted the three Miller’s accompany him back to the cottage.

 

“It’s our fault Max got hurt!” Waving her mobile around in the air, she starts pacing the lino. “We spooked Joe by visiting his mother.”

 

“We weren’t the one’s that hit him over the head, Ellie.”

 

“I know... but still. The charges against Joe are mounting up, aren’t they?”

 

Alec nods, “He’s not gonna get away with it this time.”

 

Halting mid-pace, she looks towards the door. “I should go up and check on Tom and Fred.”

 

“Erm, I already did.” Alec shifts in his seat, feels his face warming, “While you were on the phone. They’re fine, both asleep.”

 

“You did?” she says, shooting him a surprised look, a smile tugging at her mouth. “What a sweet thing to do.” Shrugging, he looks down, suddenly finding his tea very interesting.

 

“You’ll be pleased to know that Tom’s given you the seal of approval, and has given us permission to date.”

 

“Good. Wait, we’re dating now?”

 

“I think it was a case of ‘dating’ being the only word Tom could say in regards to his mother and a man, without dying of embarrassment.”

 

“Ah...”

 

“And of course we’re gonna be dating! I wouldn’t want to deprive you of the opportunity to shower me with, wine, flowers, and of course, chocolates.”

 

“All right.”

 

Placing her hands on the back of one of his kitchen chairs, she leans forward. “I spoke to Beth, before I rang Paul. They’ve decided to come home in the morning.”

 

“How’d she take the news of Joe?”

 

“Relieved that it’s over, but devastated that Joe hurt another boy.”

 

Licking his lips, Alec lowers his eyes briefly, before looking back up at her. Ellie... erm, I spoke to Tess, they’ve finished going through Tom’s journal. According to the entries the abuse started nine months before Tom took his own life. Tom wrote that Joe touched him, and also forced him to touch him back, but according to the journal it never progressed beyond touching. It’s still terrible, and a boy still killed himself because of it, but the abuse could’ve been much worse, and/or started when Tom was younger. I debated whether to tell you, know you said you didn’t want to know, but I didn’t want you worrying, imagining all sorts of scenarios that never happened.”

 

During his speech her grip on the back of the chair increases. “Thanks for telling me. You were right to.”

 

He waves his hand in the direction of the hot drink he prepared for her while she was on the phone. “Your tea’s probably stone cold by now.”

 

But instead of taking the seat adjacent to him, he’s pleasantly surprised when she circles the table, settling herself on his lap, her arms creeping up to his neck.

 

Wrapping his arms around her waist, he caresses her back. “When Tess phoned me... said Joe had gone missing, I don’t think I’ve ever been so terrified.”

 

“When Joe walked into the room carrying Fred – “ She trails off. “I should’ve known something was up when I discovered the phone line was down.”

 

Using his thumb, he strokes her lower lip, “I love you. I love you, Ellie.”

 

She responds immediately, a slight catch to her voice, “Love you more.”

 

Her words leave him breathless and shivering, his heart thudding in his chest. “That’s the first time we’ve told each other that?”

 

“I know.” She tightens her arms around his neck, “Feels good.”

 

“Um... you handled Joe well, tonight; talking him down like you did. I’m proud of you. You’re a good detective, Ellie, which is why you need to be working as a DS again, back in Broadchurch where you belong. You’re too much of an asset, not to be. Give Jenkinson a call, she loves you. They all love you there.”

 

“You used to think I was no good.”

 

“Did I ever tell you I was a total fuckwit back then? Seriously... promise me you’ll talk to Jenkinson?”

 

“Promise.”

 

“I went and saw Jenkinson last week, got my training job back.” He sits up straight, his action almost dislodging Ellie from his lap, “Shit!”

 

“What?” She grips his shirt to stop herself from falling. “I almost ended up on the floor.”

 

“Sorry. For a second there I thought I’d missed my first shift, but I think we agreed on Wednesday.”

 

She whacks him on the hand, “Knob!”

 

“So... anyway... I’ll be around at the station, and I’ll definitely be keeping an eye on dirty Brian, just in case he gets any ideas in his head about asking you out again.”

 

Laughing, she pulls him into a kiss. When they part, her expression turns serious, “I’m not the only asset, you know. You should be working as a DI.”

 

“Soon, I hope...” His hand moves over her knee, “Once I’ve settled into my pacemaker.”

 

“It survived our weekend sexual marathon. Think you’re good to go.”

 

“Is that what you want me to tell the Super?” he teases, planting a kiss on the tip of her nose.

 

“You’re right. Think we need to test it some more first. Let’s go to bed.”

 


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to take the opportunity to express my heartfelt gratitude to all of you who left comments and kudos, and/or bookmarked my story. Recognition is, without a doubt, the best reward a writer can receive. Thanks a billion, and thanks for reading. xx
> 
> ~Lisa.

ELLIE

 

_Eight months later..._

This time they hold hands as they walk into court.

 

And she doesn’t plan on letting go until after the plea hearing, maybe not even them. She wants there to be no doubt in Joe’s mind that there’s nothing left for him. That pleading guilty is his only option.

 

The bailiff escorts Joe into the dock. She falters for a moment because she almost doesn’t recognise him. Physically he looks dreadful – wan and thin, with waxy skin and bloodshot eyes – prison hasn’t been good to him. But it’s more than that. She feels like she’s looking at a complete stranger. She spent thirteen years of her life with Joe Miller but when she looks at him now she feels no emotion. There’s no anger, no pity, no regret, just nothing.

 

She once believed her marriage to Joe was perfect but being with Alec has shown her that there’s no such thing. That perfect is an illusion and illusions have a tendency to shatter.

 

What she has with Alec is so much more precious to her because it’s realistic. There’s no illusion, so nothing to shatter. He’s still the same old grumpy, surly, knob that gets on her nerves just as she’s sure her cheerfulness and constant chatter gets on his. They still fight like cat and dog, and some days she’s still tempted to piss in a cup and throw it at him, but they love each other to death, and the make-up sex is mind-blowing!

 

There’s a tense moment when the plea is read;

 

_“How do you plead, guilty or not guilty?”_

 

She holds her breath, but unlike last time, probably for the first time in his life, Joe does the right thing;

 

_“Guilty.”_

 

There’s a collective sigh of relief throughout the court.

 

It’s long overdue, but there’s finally justice for Danny Latimer and the first Tom Miller.

 

Further along the bench Mark gathers his wife and daughter close. Tears stream down Beth’s cheeks.

 

Beside her, Tom sniffs. She puts an arm around him.

 

Alec squeezes her hand. They share a look. It’s done!

 

* * *

 

ALEC

 

_Same day..._

 

They stroll along the beach at sunset. As per usual Ellie’s wittering on – telling him about the latest rock fall at the cliffs.

 

As of last week he finally convinced her to put her house on the market. They’re rarely there anyway. He’s never felt comfortable in the house she shared with Joe, and Ellie and the kids never really settled back in, especially not after the night Joe terrorised them in their own home. The cottage is far too small for all of them – especially when Daisy visits, and Tom’s constantly complaining over having to share a room with Fred – so they’re looking for something to buy together. Hopefully still close to the Latimers and Lucy.

 

Ellie’s still chatting away.

 

“Shut up,” he says, putting a hand on her arm to halt their progress. He fumbles in the pocket of his Mac for a little blue box. He’s been carrying it around for a couple of weeks now waiting for the right time. This is it! This feels right.

 

Facing her, he takes both her hands in his. “Marry me,” he says. “Make me the luckiest bastard in all of Britain.”

 

“Only you could tell me to shut up and then follow it up with a proposal of marriage,” she sighs, but her eyes are sparkling, and her smile lights up the entire beach. “I suppose I’ll have to – I’m pregnant.”

 

“You what?” Has she just said what he thinks she has?

 

“I’m having your baby. I found out yesterday.”

 

Joy bubbles in his chest. He gathers her in his arms. “That’s out-bloody-standing. Spectacular!” He brushes a hand lovingly across her stomach and she laughs with delight.

 

She holds out her left hand, “Well, go on then, put it on me, before my fingers get too bloody fat to fit it.”

 

He does as he’s told, sliding the diamond on her finger.

 

“You do realise that soon we’re not only going to have two teenagers, but two children under five as well.” She pokes him in the side. “Think you can handle it?”

 

“Aye. Thank god we have plenty of babysitters here in Broadchurch.”

 

“You’ll have to go and see Daisy. Tell her about the baby in person, invite her to our wedding.”

 

Daisy spent a couple of weeks in Broadchurch, back in June, and unlike him, fell instantly in love with the place. Ellie and Daisy had already met by then, when she accompanied him to his daughter’s sixteenth birthday party. He remembers Ellie being a bundle of nerves in the days leading up to the party, worrying that Daisy wouldn’t like her. He wasn’t concerned in the slightest – Ellie has a knack for becoming everyone’s best friend – his most of all.

 

“Ellie Hardy,” she says. “Has a nice ring to it. Sounds a lot like Alec Hardy, doesn’t it? Quite fitting really.”

 

“You’re gonna take my name?” He’s thrilled, Tess was adamant she was keeping her maiden name when he proposed.

 

Her face falls at the surprise in his voice, “You don’t want me to?”

 

Smiling, he takes her hand, “I do.”

 

He’s just realised where they are!

 

“This is where we first met,” he says.

 

“Yes,” she whispers.

 

He recalls his mother’s words from so long ago.

 

_God will put you in the right place. Even if you don’t know it at the time._

He looks at Ellie. His mother was right!

 

THE END!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit sappy, I know – I’m a sucker for a happy ending! :-)
> 
> ~Lisa.


End file.
